The Hunt
by CrazyBugger
Summary: Sadly, I find my little tale drawing towards it's conclusion. I say sadly because i realize I have grown fond of my intrepid little couple. They have already gone further than I initially planned, and there is still a bit more to their story yet...
1. Chapter 1

The Hunt

Dear Bobby,

Sorry it's been so long since last I wrote. You know how it is in this crazy business. Truth is, I have gotten myself into a bit of a situation, which is why no return address. I can't involve anyone else in it, not even you, old friend. I just wanted to let you know what's going on in case things go completely to hell, no pun intended. Hey, who am I kidding...pun TOTALLY intended.

I was hoping to stop by for a visit in January when I came off the station for holidays, but I never even made it back to the old home town. There was heavy snow in the mountain pass and the bus had to lay over to wait for the plows. Greyhound put us up in a hotel. I decided to make a trip down to the lounge for a little nightcap before turning in, since I'd been asleep for most of the last 6 hours or so on the bus.

The lounge was pretty packed, but folks were being quiet...not really in the partying mood in spite of the live band that was playing. Me, I was just sitting by myself taking it in. Funny how people look after you've been outside civilization for the better part of 2 years. So I just sipped my virgin cocktail (nobody so much as blinked when I ordered the Shirley Temple...kinda took the fun out of it) and watched the people. I almost missed her altogether.

She came into the lounge alone, and got her drink from the bar rather than taking a table. If it hadn't been for the fact that she seemed to be making an effort to be unobtrusive, I might not have paid much attention. Then as she began talking to a young fellow near the darkened window, I got a good look at her in the light of the table candle. I'm not exagerating one bit when I tell you she was the most beautiful woman this kid had ever seen. She had almost unnaturally large eyes, so green I could see from across the room, set in a round, innocent-looking face framed by golden hair.

Even so, it wasn't until the woman took off her coat that she caught the attention of every man in the place. Her hair was waist length and looked like an ad for expensive hair products. She was wearing dark grey slacks and a plain white blouse with enough buttons open to reveal that she wore no bra. Her body moved like rich liquid as she dropped her coat over one arm of the chair and seated herself opposite her companion.

Perhaps I used the wrong word, since the man she sat with gave the distinct impression that he didn't know the woman at all. Nonetheless, it was hard to imagine any man turning away from the attention of a woman like her, especially since she seemed focused on him as though she found him utterly entrancing. Every time he spoke, she leaned towards him, as if enthralled by his every word.

For the next hour and a half (and 5 more Shirley Temples), I, and every other man in the hotel lounge, watched this walking, talking wet dream make her way amongst the apparently single male patrons (and 2 who weren't). Each man she left appeared to be in a completely drunken stupor and gave the impression of losing all interest in her before she moved on. It took me observing only 2 of these encounters before I made the connection.

I had never seen one in the flesh before, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was watching a feeding succubus. If anyone else in the room found the woman's behavior in the least odd, they gave no sign of it. But then, I was always a bit more resistant to glamour than most, and I had yet to bear the brunt of the demon's full attention. In spite of my awareness of the true parasitic nature of that attention, I found myself anxiously awaiting the moment when the creature would turn it on me. Perhaps it was the anticipation of just once being looked at by a woman of such astonishing lovliness the way she looked at each of her "victims".

If it had not been for the complete change in the succubus' demeanor, I would have missed the 2 young women who had come in from the storm. I followed her intent gaze and recognized them for what they were immediately. Vampires. The effect their arrival had on the parasite demon was startling. Her tour through the lounge had ended, and her casual posture had become rigid. She looked around the room with quick, almost frantic movements, and when I got a look at her face, her expression was one of undisguised panic.

At once I thought of your theory on the potential interaction between vampires and cubic spirits. The succubus had been working this room for well over an hour and there wasn't a person in it who hadn't been touched by her glamour. The air was heavy with the supernatural pheremones her body spread like pollen. All of this conspired to create an environment ripe for the raising of hormonal reproductive instincts. Since the 2 vampires reproduced by killing, the overall effect was to make the succubus the supernatural equivalent of a harbour seal in a bay full of killer whales. Clearly enough, she knew it.

The vampires split up, one of them taking a table between her prey and the door, while the other strolled casually towards the bar. The succubus had been on her feet when they entered, and began moving towards the door. The seated vampire rose, and she retreated in my direction. The vampire removed her coat and sat down again, looking directly at the frightened succubus.

Would they actually hit her right here in the lounge, I wondered. Not likely, but the lounge would close soon, and everyone would leave at once, making her easy prey. It was obvious she had the same thought and intended to make her escape attempt before that happened.

I won't even try to explain what happened next, because I'm not even sure I understand it myself. I may have been under the effect of the demon's glamour more than I thought, but frankly I doubt it, and here's why. As soon as the vampires entered the lounge, the succubus' appearance changed. Her hair darkened subtly and her features became slightly more aristocratic. Her cheekbones seemed to rise and her face narrowed almost imperceptably. If the writings are correct, and these creatures appear to their victims as their sexual ideal, then she had just lost her control over me, and possibly everyone in the room. At one point, I actually thought I saw wings at her back and on her head; batlike and somewhat menacing. When I blinked in surprise, however, the impression was gone and I cannot say for certain that I had seen it at all. What I'm getting at, Bobby, is that I believe the decision I made next to have been made of my own free will. When I think about it now, I am unsure of the reasons that went into that decision, although I believe that a large contributing factor was the way the succubus looked around when she realized that there was no getting to the exit. Her expression of utter despair, almost as though she saw complete hopelessness in her situation, and had no doubt that no one in the room, without aid of her glamour, would possibly give a damn.

In any case, my mind fixed on the logistics of what was happening. The vampires were herding their victim towards the washrooms, the entrance to which was only a few feet from where I sat. At that same moment, I saw the demon turn her back on the lounge and head towards me. I got quickly to my feet, deliberately not looking towards the vampires, but noticing that the one near the bar was starting in the same direction. I stepped into the corridor, heart racing, turned the corner, and paused. The instant the demon entered the short hallway, I seized her arm. She almost cried out, staring at me with eyes too wide to be human.

"Come," I hissed and pulled her roughly towards the men's room. She allowed this until we were alone in the 3-stall washroom then broke my grip. With one hand, she pinned me against the porcelain tile. I couldn't believe her strength, and when she leaned so close to me I could feel her rapid breath on my throat, I thought I was dead. Looking down at her face (she stood no more than 5'2" in enormous stiletto-heeled boots), I saw the needlelike fangs between her slightly parted lips. Her eyes were wild; almost feral, and I felt panic stir in me as I wondered if I had made a fatal mistake. She was small in stature, but the delicate hand which held the base of my neck may as well have been polished marble. I realized that if she meant to end my life, I would already be dead.

"What do you want?" she demanded. It was hardly the softly husky voice I had imagined, but it betrayed the fear I was responding to.

"There's a vampire outside waiting for you to make a break out the ladies' room window," I gasped, praying I was right for both our sakes.

The creature seemed to melt before my eyes. Releasing me, she took a step backwards. Her eyes suddenly swam with tears; her lips moved but made no sound. I made my play. If I had misjudged her, she'd kill me right here in the john. If I misjudged the vampires, we both had less than a minute to live. I grabbed the towel dispenser and ripped a length of paper about a foot long off the roll. Grabbing the succubus roughly, I pulled open her blouse, exposing her ample bosom. Trying not to think about her body, and half waiting to feel those steelly fingers around my throat again, I shoved the paper towel under the succubus' arm, rubbing it hard against the soft but unyielding flesh. I avoided her gaze, not wanting to see the wild fury I expected to be there, and shoved the paper down the front of her pants.

"No panties," I thought disjointedly, and realized I was feeling the pangs of panic again. So much hinged on the next few seconds. I had no time to explain to the demon that I wasn't trying to cop a cheap feel. Furthermore, even if she had decided to put her trust in me, I had only my hunch that this crazy idea had even a chance of working. As I tossed the moist paper towel over the door to a stall, I turned back towards the succubus to find her re-adjusting her blouse. I seriously doubted that she guessed what I was thinking, but apparently if I was about to die, it wasn't going to be at her hands. When I placed my hand in the small of her back and propelled her towards the door, she moved without question.

As we re-entered the corridor which connected the 2 washrooms, my heart skipped a beat. The door to the ladies' room was still closed, although I imagined I could feel the vampire on the other side reaching to open it. I gave the succubus a shove towards the lounge and hissed "OUT!" She went.

My vision got unaccountably bright as the demoness rounded the corner into the lounge and the ladies' room door opened. I let my hand linger on the door to the men's room, casting a furtive glance over my shoulder. As I let go of the door and turned back the way I was walking, I bumped into the vampiress. Without a word, she shoved past me and went into the men's room.

The washroom door closed behind me and my heart started beating again. I turned into the lounge and scanned the room. No sign of the succubus, and several people were looking towards the exit door. I couldn't help smiling. If I had guessed correctly, the demoness had had a clear shot at escape. If I had guessed wrong, she was dead. It was that simple. As I turned towards the table I'd been seated at, I caught a glimpse of something outside in the glare of the standing lamp that froze my breath in my throat. The succubus was standing there in the snow!

No one was near her, she was simply standing there! As my mind registered this, I heard the sound of a door being slammed back in the men's room. I dashed to the door, trying frantically to piece together what had gone wrong. "Why hadn't she fled?" I thought wildly. I realized panic was encroaching yet again and fought it. I made it through the door just as the vampire came around the corner from the washrooms. The succubus was staring directly at me with a worried look. Worried? The situation called for blind terror.

"There's one out here," the demoness said.

I stared at her, for an instant unable to speak. Then it struck me...she hadn't understood my plan! She'd gone along with everything without knowing what I was doing! I saw her eyes widen as understanding dawned on her. A faint whimper escaped her lips as she looked first skyward then towards the rear of the building. Her eyes got bigger still as she saw the single pair of footprints that went in that direction and vanished a few feet onwards, evidencing the vampire taking flight on her way 'round to intercept the succubus as she attempted her escape through the ladie's room window.

The succubus turned back towards me as she realized that her chance to flee was gone. We now had a vampire inside coming out and one outside coming in and we were pinned in the middle. I realized sickly that there was no out of this. The vampires would kill me along with the demon. I had no delusions that my training would amount to anything with them.

The demon was on me before I realized she'd moved. Her hands clawed at the front of my shirt and her impossibly wide liquid green eyes looked imploringly up at me. This time, I was SURE I saw wings. The last of her facade was gone, swept away on a tide of mortal terror. Looking down at the demon, the disjointed realization that she was apparently not immune to the cold pulled my attention to the front of her blouse. I bent my knees, thrust my left hand between her legs and lifted her up. She fell against me as I stepped forward out of the entrance alcove, turned, and hurled her unresisting figure into the drift of snow piled against it. As she plunged into it, I slammed my shoulder into the planking, wincing at the explosion of pain as a small avalanche of snow crashed down from the small peaked roof. The vampiress came out the swinging entrance door behind me as I cursed aloud and stumbled, almost going to one knee. I stood up, seeing the second vampire round the back corner of the building.

Straightening my self up as the two blood drinkers came towards each other, I reached into my shirt pocked and muttered under my breath. Looking up at the nearest one I asked,"Do you have a smoke I could buy off you?"

There was an awful instant as she turned towards me that images of every damn thing that could get me killed at that moment flashed through my mind. What if there was some body part sticking out of the snow pile behind me? What if the vampire actually GAVE me a cigarette? What if...She cast me a look that bordered on contempt, and turned away with her fellow blood sucker.

For a moment I wondered if some comment from me would seem appropriate and decided I had played chicken with Fate enough already.

I waited a moment to see what would happen next and try to collect my thoughts. I knew the succubus needed to breathe and wondered if she was going to come to any harm under the snow. Still, I was by no means sure that the 2 predators had left, and if they had, how far away they had to be to be safe. I wondered if the demoness I had helped would flee the moment I pulled her out.

A few steps around the front of the building revealed no sign of the vampires, and I felt slightly silly peering up through the snow to look at the roof of the hotel. I returned to the snowpile and thrust a hand into it. The moment I touched her, the demoness sat upright, looking first at me, then around at her surroundings.

"Ok," I said. "I think you're clear for the moment."

She looked at me blankly. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" she asked in a tone that clearly indicated it seemed to her a rather unpleasant idea.

"You're a demon, right?" I demanded, keeping my voice low. "Can't you fly?"

That worried look was back. "Yes, but if the vampires smell me, there's nothing I can do to protect myself. They won't hesitate to hit me in the sky at night. Besides, I'm cold."

I couldn't stop the indulgent glance before it happened. She was correct. She was also wet, her flimsy blouse clinging to her incredible body in a way that was outright erotic. She reached out a hand and touched my arm. "Please help me."

The idea of pointing out that that was exactly what I had just finished risking my life doing occured to me. On the other hand, here was the most sexually alluring woman I'd ever laid eyes on sitting in a snowdrift with her nipples poking out of a sodden, half open blouse like pistol barrels asking for permission to stay with me. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and lifted her to her feet.

By the time I got my demonic companion back to the hotel room, she was clinging to me for support and shivering uncontrolably, whether from the cold or from the aftermath of fear, I wasn't sure. It occured to me as I unlocked the door and led her inside, that after all the physical liberties I had taken with her, there was probably a 50/50 chance that, with the imminent threat of being killed and eaten by vampires gone, the demon would decide to rip my innards out with her fingernails. Still, 50/50 seemed like the best survival odds I'd faced since I'd met her, so I decided not to worry about it. I sat her on the end of the bed and went into the bathroom to draw a hot tub. By the time I returned, she was lying nude on the bed, her slacks and blouse tossed carelessly over the back of the chair.

"You saved my life," she said, her voice still unsteady from the shivers. "Anything I have to offer is yours."

Squatting next to the bed, I took her hand. "How about your name, to start," I asked.

"Morrigan," she replied. "Morrigan Aenslaed."

I patted the hand I was holding, trying not to stare at her luscious, naked body. "Tell you what, Miss Morrigan Aenslaed, what say you thaw out in the tub and unwind a bit, then we'll chat, ok?"

She nodded agreement with a smile that was more appreciative than seductive, and let me help her to her feet for the second time that night. She walked to the bathroom on her own while I watcher her, not sure if the wiggle of those voluptuous hips was for my benefit, but hoping it was. I was just realizing that while this being was obviously not immune to freezing temperatures, gravity seemed to hold no dominion over her, when she paused at the bathroom door. Looking across the room at me, she seemed startled to find me looking at her. She favoured me with a slightly sad smile that almost made me go to her. "Thank you for rescuing me," she said gently, and went inside.

Once I heard her slip into the water, I went to the desk and got out pen and paper. Truth is, I am not sure where this is going to lead me, old friend, but I'll be mailing this letter tonight and I promise to be in touch as soon as I can.

All the best,

S


	2. Chapter 2

Dear Diary

In almost 3000 years, I have never kept a journal. My mortal companion purchased this one for me, with the comment that it might be more important for an immortal being to keep a record of their thoughts and feelings than a mortal, since we have so much more to remember. I haven't got a full sense of his humour yet so I am unsure if he was making a joke, but writing seems to alleviate some tension. Besides that point, he said that keeping a diary was a perfectly stereotypical girly thing to do and he seems to like me that way.

Ever since the night Alexander came to my aid, I have been trying without notable success to establish some sort of control over him. Not that he has proven to be a problem per se, but if my suspicions turn out to be grounded, I may need to be able to rely on him completely rather than trusting to his flighty mortal "free will." It is obvious that while he seems highly resistant to demonic glamour, he's as affected by my physical charms as any man. His strength of will has proven, however, astonishing.

The night we met, he took me to his suite in the hotel after I had shown reluctance to flutter off into the night to dodge vampires. I had played up the effects of the cold on my body, but it quickly became clear that he responded much more to an exagerated display of weakness than raw sex appeal. He went to draw me a bath, and I stripped naked. I felt completely drained from my frightening encounter, and really didn't want to have to put a lot of work into interacting with him. I also didn't want to kill him, since I feared his usefulness was only just beginning.

However, he sidestepped my offer of sex, and seemed to take the role of my shining knight rather seriously. This was becoming work. Nonetheless, after he had buried me in the snow to hide me from the vampires, my clothes were sodden and a hot bath really did sound appealing so I decided not to waste it. I discovered to my delight that he had used the complimentary bubble bath. The water was deep and I soon found myself dozing in its luxuriant warmth.

Until I was rudely jerked to full wakefullness by the acute sensation of a startlingly powerful aura. It was close and I wondered with sudden alarm if the mortal had been part of a scheme to place me in a vulnerable position. I'm unsure what caught his attention, but I heard him coming an instant before he was there in the bathroom, looking down at me. For a moment, as I listened to the footsteps pass down the outside hall, I had been unconcerned about my own facial expression. Lying there in the foamy water, I realized I was glaring angrily at my mortal host. I quickly shuddered, disrupting the bath water just enough to offer glimpses of my body beneath the suds, and averted my eyes. "I'm sorry," I muttered. "I think I dozed off and had a nightmare."

I arched my back slightly so my breasts poked tentatively through the bubbles and smiled inwardly as I saw the struggle with which he kept his eyes fixed on my face. He drew a shaky breath and forced a smile. "A demon having bad dreams?" he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "I guess after this evening, I can't blame you."

I squirmed in the tub, reacting to the smooth press of the porcelain against my bum, and stifled a gasp. I could feel the intensity of the man's lust, and my own body responded to it. But somehow he held his facade and reached down and stroked my hair. His touch was like an electric shock and as he turned to leave the bathroom, I realized with dawning dismay that I had been focusing so much energy to overcoming his resolve, that I had bouyed myself on the tide of my own libido. "Don't leave me," I hissed, not trusting myself to speak aloud. I was trying for a sultry whisper but failed miserably.

He suddenly seemed to recognize that something was amiss with me and concern overrode the lust he was fighting to supress. He sat down on the toilet seat and leaned towards me, a question in his eyes. "What's the matter with you?!" I gasped. "You have a sexy woman lying naked in your bathtub and all you can do is stare at her?"

I fainted. I had no idea how long I had been unconscious, but only my hair seemed to be wet. I was being touched...no, caressed. Some dim part of my consciousness warned me that a moment of extreme vulnerability which usually lasted only seconds was being allowed to linger, but I couldn't muster the will to care. If those calloused but gentle hands sought to render me helpless, then I was conquered. Ocean waves sighed slowly on miles of unblemished sand as the fingers kneaded my temples. I drifted effortlessly on the warm breeze. Butterflies fluttered with wings of spun gossamer across my eyelids and down my face, and over my lips. At times, his fingertips didn't even seem to touch my skin, bringing gooseflesh to my entire body as they played along my throat. I was sure I heard the distant sound of a waterfall when those magical fingers reached my chest. They began a slow, tantalizing tease, bringing my nipples to vaguely uncomfortable attention. The waterfall sound was coming closer. I heard a soft moan, and knew it came from my lips. I realized that the waterfall wasn't approaching me, I was approaching it, as the rhythmic motion of the river carried me inexorably downstream. I lost track of what sensations were physical and which induced by my own delerium. Finally, the waves crested and thrust me into oblivion.

"Good morning, Morrigan." I wasn't sure how long I'd been awake, but Alex's voice brought the hotel room into focus. It was still dark outside the window, but the bedside clock told me it was already almost 7:00. I tried to take stock of myself. My body felt like warm butter, as though when I moved I would flow like honey poured from a jar.

"I offered you my body last night," I said directly. He hadn't taken it, I knew. What I still didn't know was why.

"Actually, you offered everything you had," he replied, favoring me with an inscrutable smile which I found both endearing and annoying. However, since it's fairly difficult to put on a good show of anger when you're nude, I smiled back.

I swung my legs off the bed and winced in pain. I had slept exactly where my mortal benefactor had placed me, and my wings had been crumpled beneath my body for hours. Abandoning my facade of humanity, I stretched my wings as much as the enclosed space of the hotel room would allow, and walked slowly to where Alex sat. I looked down at him thoughtfully, then carefully parted my legs and stradled his, settling onto his lap and framing his face in my hands. He made no move to kiss me, instead wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his hands into the small of my back. I gasped.

Moaning as the man's fingers worked up the tense muscles around my wings, I found myself arching my body, and abruptly felt the prickle of his moustache between my breasts. "Why are you doing this?" I asked, trying not to sound too dreamy.

"Doing what?" he asked innocently.

My wings began to flutter, rustling like autumn leaves against the pile of the carpet. "This," I replied and abruptly made some incoherent sound as the strong hands unwound a knotted muscle at the back of my ribs. "I was trying to seduce you."

My head lolled back, my eyes fluttered closed and my hair tickled the upper curve of my bum. Alex's hands had made their way to my upper back and he took control of my arms with slow pressure between my shoulder blades. "Well," he answered, "I'm trying to seduce you also."

Not even bothering to keep my voice steady I said, "I've given you my body. What is there to seduce?"

I could feel him smile. His thumbs worked in tiny circles on either side of my spine and I felt my wings fluttering again. "Sex isn't surrender to you," he said. "It isn't even intimate. It's eating." As he spoke, his moustache teased my breasts to the beginnings of arousal and the little pewter beads on his braided goatee tickled the middle of my tummy.

I forced myself to regain some semblance of control and straightened my body. "This is absurd," I said, opening my eyes and starting to stand. At that instant, the man's fingers pinched a nerve at the base of my skull and I felt as though my bones had melted. I stayed where I was.

Finally, whether because his hands were getting tired or because, even to him, my body felt like an overcooked noodle, Alex leaned me back away from him, cradling me with his forearms. I opened my eyes and watched him tenderly and slowly kiss each of my nipples before drawing back and looking up at my face. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Please don't be," I replied, not bothering to keep the quiver out of my voice. I rose to my feet, his hands trailing down my back and dropping away after following the form of my bum. I stood over him for a moment, legs still apart straddling his lap, letting him drink me in, but he held my gaze stoically. "Allright, you ridiculous human," I said, favouring him with a coy smile over my shoulder as I stepped away. "Where did I leave my clothes?"

"There're in housekeeping getting dried," he answered, standing up."You're welcome to wear something of mine until they're done."

I glanced down at his 3 baggage pieces, then looked at him, taking real visual stock of him for the first time. He was short for a man, something around 5'6" but with a square build, like a labourer. The calloused, short fingered hands supported that impression. Thinking of his hands brought a smile to my lips. He wore a short sleeved button work shirt, and well-worn corduroy pants cut unfashionably short at the cuff. I was slightly surprised to realize I hadn't noticed his battered "construction worker's" boots before. The thought of sharing his wardrobe was faintly amusing.

"Ok, what do you think?" I enquired, stepping out of the bathroom. I was wearing a pair of unevenly faded jeans with the cuffs rolled up just enough so the heels of my boots didn't catch them, a wide leather belt cinched tightly over my hips to keep the jeans from falling off me, and a woolen sweater with sleeves so long my fingers barely poked out of them.

Alex surveyed me with one eyebrow steeply arched. "You look," he said carefully, "like the world's cutest tomboy."

"Thank you," I said, realizing with some surprise that I actually meant it. "But are you going to take me out like this?"

"Of course!" he said delightedly. "Gotta show you off. You're a total trophy."

I laughed and playfully hooked his arm as we left the hotel room. I felt more relaxed than I had in recent memory.

Alex's coach was still waylaid by the pass closure which had brought him to the hotel last night, so he took me to breakfast. The snow still fell heavily and everything outside looked pure and clean. We sat in the restaurant while he ate a hearty breakfast and he showed no surprise that I held a hot mug of coffee between my hands but didn't drink it. I was glad he wasn't leaving yet, as I was still uncomfortable about the previous night. Not only the pair of vampires although it was strange enough to see 2 blood drinkers hunting together, especially females, but I was very much unnerved by the being whose aura I had sensed in the hotel.

If my suspicions were correct, I dared not return to my own home, and that left me with very limited resources. Alex seemed content, even pleased, to be my escort, so I settled comfortably into the role of the girl.

After breakfast, I suggested we go to housekeeping to retrieve my clothes but to my surprise he suggested we take a walk in the snow instead. As we stood up from the table, I spead my arms wide and leaned towards him. "You really do like me like this?"

"It might not be elegant," he told me, "but honestly, you look cute as the fuzz in a bug's ear."

I accepted that as one of the oddest compliments I'd ever heard, and looked down, surveying myself. I pulled my shoulders back sharply and arched my back. "This sweater is so bulky, it makes me look flat chested," I pouted.

Alex put his hands on my waist and turned me, peering sideways at my profile. "No it doesn't," he said flatly and turned away to pay our bill.

Once outside, I began to wonder if I might be finally breaking my mortal companion down. 6" heels are awkward beyond words in deep snow, and he seemed to enjoy the fact that no acting was required on my part to cling to him as we trudged towards the edge of the forest. "Don't worry, it'll get easier," he assured me. I seriously doudted it.

Sure enough, once we were beneath the jungle canopy however, the snow was only a few inches deep. I looked around in genuine wonder. Barely out of sight of the buildings, the woods were silent except for the faint hiss of the lazily falling snowflakes. I looked about, not bothering to watch where I was going, content to let Alex's arm guide me as I stared at the swirling crystal kaleidescope around us.

All at once, I stumbled. The aura from last night struck me like a physical blow and suddenly I knew in spite of the heavy overcast sky and thick falling snow that the moon was full. "What the...?" from Alex, who had stopped dead in his tracks.

I followed his gaze and felt my blood chill as I spotted the sandy haired young man wearing nothing but a shredded pair of shorts standing not 30' away. I shook off my companion's hand as the man took a step toward us. "Good morning, Hell Bitch," he said in a voice that was barely human.

I flexed my wings, only dimly aware of the wool sweater which rode high across my back over the top of them. "We don't have to do this, Jon" I said evenly.

His only answer was a low snarl as thick fur sprouded from the middle of his chest and flowed like obsene water across his body. His head warped, the bones shifting beneath the skin as his face lengthened, gaining extruded jaws and a mammoth snout. Fingers lengthened, nails hooking into claws as the bones within them slid one over the other to complete the hideous transformation.

"Oh bugger," came Alex's voice from behind me as the werewolf lunged across the clearing towards me. I sprang high, using my wings to carry me over the line of Talbaine's leap. Not quite high enough...the wolf caught my leg, and hauled me to the ground in an explosion of powdered snow and fallen leaves. Instantly, the beast was on me, pinning my lower body leaving only my arms to try desperately to fend off those awful snapping jaws.

My fingers found purchase in the long fur and kept the fangs from my throat. I felt the claws raking my stomach as the creature shifted its weight to get another thrust at me. A sharp hiss passed near my left ear, followed by 2 cracks, so swift in succession they were almost a single sound. The werewolf howled in rage and pain and leaped off me. As I gasped for breath, I saw Alex standing some 10 feet away facing the beast. In his hands was a tree branch, perhaps 6' in length and held level with the ground and pointed directly at Jon Talbaine. The beast snarled at him and gathered itself for its attack. I hadn't even the breath to cry out in warning before Jon sprang at the little man. The woods echoed with the high-pitched yelp as the stick pierced the wolf's shoulder. Alex went to one knee, using the stick and his attacker's weight to spin the creature over into the ground. Instantly Jon was lunging, slobber flying from open jaws as he went for his victim's throat. But Alex rolled backwards, snapping the stick across the front of his body. I had never seen a human move like that. It was like some deadly ballet. Jon's jaws snapped shut on the stick only inches from Alex's flesh. Then the little man thrust out with his shoulder, twisting the beast's head to break it's neck. Right move...wrong creature, and it almost cost him his life.

The thick corded neck was too strong for Alex's mortal strength to overcome, and an instant later, the stick snapped in two in those dreadful jaws. I had less than a second to act, and I didn't even think. The thrust of my wings carried me across the intervening gap and I drove my legs into the werewolf's flank, feeling bones splinter as the beast flipped over several times in the snow. I caught myself on one knee and Talbaine was already on his feet, glaring at us with baleful golden eyes. A glob of slobber dropped from his jaw as he snarled menacingly, then spun and bounded into the woods. I knelt for a moment longer, wings curled cautiously around me, then got to my feet.

"Friend of yours?" Alex asked as I turned towards him. I hesitated then offered him my hand tentatively to help him to his feet. He accepted it and stood next to me.

"Something like that," I replied. "Are you hurt?"

"Only my pride, thanks to you," he grinned ruefully.

I shook my head. If Alex hadn't distracted the werewolf when he did, we probably wouldn't have been having the conversation and I told him as much. His masculine ego seemed more durable than most, so I took the risk of sounding condescending. "That was an unbelievably brave thing you did," I said, tilting my chin up to kiss his cheek. "But I think I'd like to go back and get into my own clothes again."

He smiled at me and wrapped his arm around my waist. Without a word, he led me back through the woods to the hotel.


	3. Chapter 3

Revelations

Dear Bobby,

Less than 2 days ago, I dropped a letter to you in the mail box. Nothing has moved in or out of here since, so I guess I could have saved myself a stamp. Regardless, I want to keep you up to date as much as I can. If nothing else, this'll make a hell of a story for your kids some day.

We're stuck here in the mountains for another night on account of the snow, and my newfound companion didn't want to leave this morning. After breakfast, we took a stroll outside and got attacked by a werewolf. The stories about those buggers are not exagerated, I can tell you. It handed me my ass and would have finished me off if Morrigan hadn't intervened. We pretty much hid out in the hotel room the rest of the day.

To be honest, I was a little puzzled by the fact that the demoness didn't take a powder once the sun was up, but I couldn't think of a way of asking about it without sounding rude. I got the impression that she was used to men more or less just wanting to pop in the old salami and be done with it, so I got to thinking she actually liked being treated like a lady. Then again, maybe it was that book on sensual massage I read a few years back...apparently demon physiology isn't that much different than ours.

Then, 'round dinner time I suggested she join me in the restaurant even though she doesn't eat food, but she declined. "I'm a little hungry myself, so I think I'll go spend some time in the lounge," she said.

"That sounds funny spoken aloud," I mused, grinning.

So off I went to take advantage of Greyhound's hospitality again (this place has fabulous monte cristo sandwiches) while Morrigan trotted off to feed in her own way. I'd finished eating and was letting dinner settle with a tall glass of apple juice when a young girl walked in and looked around the restaurant. She looked about 10 years old (tough to tell at that age, maybe she was as much as 12) and seemed to be alone. Wearing a white blouse with a yellow kerchief around her neck, and a neat red skirt, the girl looked like she'd just stepped out of a private school.

Looking directly at me, she walked over to my table. "May I please sit down with you?" she asked politely. "I won't take but a moment."

I rose to my feet and she smiled. "Of course," I said, nodding to the chair opposite mine.

She studied me carefully and I guessed she knew me; at least more than I knew her. "So," she said. "You're Morrigan's new pet."

The words were almost condescending enough to warrant comment. Almost, but not quite. She was trying to piss me off. Apparently I'd been wrong about that "knowing me" thing.

I smiled at her. "I gather she REALLY missed her goldfish," I said. To her credit, her expression didn't flicker.

"Forgive my rudeness," she nodded primly. "My name is Lily. So Stanley, how much has she told you?"

I must have flinched because her smile broadened slightly. "Very little," I said tightly. I wasn't in control of the conversation, and perhaps hadn't been from the start. I cursed silently. "Why?"

"Curiosity, I suppose," she shrugged, an amazingly elegant gesture in one so young. Then it dawned on me.

"Another succubus," I said quietly.

Her eyebrows raised in an expression of delight. "How wonderful!" she exclaimed. The surprise wasn't genuine. "No wonder she chose you." She leaned forward without touching the table between us and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "What are you, exactly? A hunter, perhaps...Morrigan always DID have a touch of the perverse. But no..." she leaned back in her chair, hands still neatly folded in her lap and regarded me thoughtfully. "You have the look of St. Jude's chosen. Interesting indeed..."

I mean no disrespect, Miss Lily," I said, trying not to let my irritation show. "But what exactly is it I can do for you?"

The demon's smile frosted almost imperceptably. "So cynical," she mused as though talking about someone who wasn't there. "You're a mortal man. Must a succubus always want something from you?"

Leaning towards me again she continued,"I assume she told you she's a princess?"

"Oh but wait. No," she went on before I could reply." She told you she's the queen. The kind and gentle monarch of a tumultuous realm and she needs you to take the throne at her side so your great strength can help preserve peace and justice."

The demon girl's eyes sparkled with something I couldn't name. "Don't you think it's all a little convenient that all this just happened to take place here while you're trapped by snow?" she asked me. "Have you asked her why she hasn't gone home to her kingdom already? ...or taken you with her? What is she waiting for?"

"Why are you saying this to me?" I asked.

"Because I don't want civil war," Lily replied. "She's a liar, Stanley. She's not the queen, she's the princess in exile. I was part of the coup that deposed her and we'd have executed her to quell her supporters if she hadn't fled like a coward. Now she's trying to muster forces to reclaim her crown and she'll spark a war that'll tear Makai apart to do it."

Abruptly, she pushed back her chair. Gathering her small purse under her arm, she leaned toward me one last time. "I'm sure you'd make a fine soldier, Mr. Westhaver," she whispered. "Just be sure you're on the right side."

As I watched her go, I realized that Morrigan was standing near the inner hotel entrance to the restaurant. Undoubtedly she was the reason for Lily's sudden departure. She watched the other succubus leave before approaching the table and sitting down. I noticed she took a chair next to mine rather than the one Lily had just vacated.

"I see you have met Lilith," Morrigan said solemly. "Are you alright?"

I nodded without speaking, pondering the things the succubus had said. Had Morrigan simply not yet got around to telling me? Was I not hooked enough yet to be willing to put my life on the line in her play for power? "I'd like you to tell me what's going on, Morrigan," I said as gently as I could. The situation DID seem far too perfect to be chance, so Lily's contention that it was a set-up made sense. The question was, who was setting up what?

Morrigan looked away. "So," she said. "I'm on trial in the high court of Alexander Eastman." There was a bitter tone to her voice.

"You can stop calling me that now," I said. The flicker in her eyes seemed too quick to be contrived. Then again, she'd been playing mortal men since before my ancestors were conceived. She shook her head sadly.

"You lied to me about your NAME?!" she demanded incredulously. "Ok, I guess I'm supposed to trust you with my life while you decide if you want to trust me with anything at all. Fair enough. I guess I'm not done showing gratitude. Go ahead then, ask me anything. Please be a bit more specific than, 'what's going on' if you wouldn't mind."

"The passive-aggressive routine isn't helping," I said, eliciting a glare from her. "Mind if we start with who you are?"

She sighed deeply. "May we go to the room?" she asked tightly. I nodded and we got up, I paid my bill and we walked silently back to the room. Once inside, Morrigan stood at the foot of the bed and regarded me with cool green eyes. Her human facade was firmly in place and I was having difficulty reading her mood. Anger was definately in the emotional mix.

"Would you mind telling me what Lilith said to you?" She asked. "It would make this feel a bit less like an interrogation."

I agreed that would certainly be fair but I wanted to hear what she had to say without the benefit of having something to build on. I felt bad about it, but there seemed little choice at the moment. I half expected her to tell me to go screw myself and leave. I wouldn't have blamed her. In her eyes, I was a lower form of life...litterally, and I had no business expecting her to answer to me.

"Other than being Morrigan Aenslaed, the man-eating demon, what do you want to know? Please," she said. "I am not being purposely obtuse. I have been alive for more than 3000 years and have had more identities than come readily to mind. I don't intend to lie to you Alex." She caught my annoyed look and shook her head. "You're Alex to me until you tell me differently."

"Royalty?" The one-word question seemed to deflate her. She sat down on the bed and looked between her knees at the carpet.

"I am the blood heir to the throne of Makai, a realm in Hades forsaken even by the First Forsaken Angel Morningstar himself," she said slowly without looking up. "Berial was my caretaker...you could consider him my father although demons do not sire young. He ruled the realm for millenia and his house was expected to rule for eternity. The Aenslaed clan looked to me to take power upon his death but I had no wish for it. Let one with more ambition than I assume power. But the clan has not been without challengers. The vampire lord, Dimitri Maximoff seeks the throne for himself." She finally looked up at me.

"He also wants me."

I raised an eyebrow.

"He wants me to be his personal sex toy," Morrigan said flatly. "He has for centuries. I defy him and that makes him want me more. Politically, a union between the houses of Aenslaed and Maximoff would secure him as the ruler of Makai, leaving only the dark messiah Jedah to pose any real opposition.With my strength submissive to him, he could face any challenge."

"So where does Lily fit in?" I asked

"She wants my body," she replied.

"Always nice to know you have all the bases covered," I tried to joke.

"I suppose so," she looked back down at the floor. "Lilith wants to expunge my spirit from my physical form and take it for herself."

"Oh well then, she and Maxie boy need to get together," I said. "He helps her take you out, and in exchange she becomes his favorite concubine and..." I trailed off, realizing she was looking at me again.

"Aw crap," I said. " So...one last question: why did you stick around after the sun came up this morning?"

"What IS this anyway, the Inquisition?! she exploded. Touchy subject apparently. "If you didn't want me here, you could have said so. Would you be more comfortable if I left?"

At this point, I was supposed to take her in my arms and assure her that no, of course I wanted her to stay. "Again with the passive-aggressive crap," I snapped. "According to Lily, you want my help to try to reclaim your throne."

I wasn't sure if her look was contempt or disbelief. "I'm sure it's a lot easier to believe that the deposed queen of Hades is willing to invest this much effort into recruiting a mere human to overthrow the ruling demons than to believe a girl actually enjoys your company!"

I looked at the darkened window, then back at her. "It's time for you to go."

She stood and looked at me, emotions I didn't even try to read crossing her features. "I'm sorry, that was cruel. I didn't mean..."

"Just go, please," I said, opening the door to the hallway. She held my gaze as she crossed the room, and I wondered if I was about to die at her hands after all. "Wait," I said, just as she reached me. "Use the window, I'd rather the desk clerk didn't see you."

This time I positively identified disbelief. She spun on her heel, crossed the hotel suite, jerked open the thermal pane window, and launched herself into the darkness.

I dashed to the window and pulled it tight, not bothering to latch it. Grabbing my old army kit bag, I withdrew my sword and crossbow. Pulling on the long duffel coat, I turned into the corridor at a dead run and made for the stairs, taking them 3 at a time.

Forcing myself to walk casually, I crossed the lobby, hands thrust deep into the coat to hold the weapons against my body. Fortunately, the crossbow was of a hinged design, so it folded into a fairly compact single piece. In this weather, no one would bat an eye at someone in a long heavy coat looking bulky.

Outside in the snow, I made my way to the treeline as swiftly as the powder would allow. Under the trees, the going became easier, and I took a few steps into the woods. I needed to be able to see, so beyond the range of the hotel lights would be too far. A small tree quickly yielded a branch some 18" long to the blade of my sword. Dropping to one knee, I pulled my Gerber off my belt and began to whittle, holding the branch against the stock of the crossbow as a guide. It wouldn't be perfect, but it had a sharp point, and I didn't need much range. I just needed the wood that the quiver of aluminum shafted bolts with their razor sharp titanium broadheads couldn't offer me.

Shoving my newly crafted weapon into the waistband of my pants, I proceded to plow my way back towards the hotel. It seemed I made good time, but if I was guessing correctly, and the sick sensation in the pit of my gut told me I was, time was something I simply did not have. The walk back across the hotel lobby fighting not to gasp for breath after my strenuous run from the woods was excrutiating. Then I was in the stairwell, making the 3 floors on burning legs.

Some 20' from the door to my room, I slipped into the alcove which housed the ice and pop machines. There was only time to hope no one would need a drink in the next moment as I took out the crossbow and assembled it. I was grateful for the design as a little pressure from my size 8 Dakota and a few turns from a hex key magnetized to the stock turned the compact bundle into a weapon capable of knocking down a deer at 100 yards. A sharp click of the lock engaging and I nocked my homemade featherless bolt.

I put my ear to the door of my room. Sucking sounds. Jesus. I slipped the key into the lock, shouldered the crossbow, and pushed open the door. Then things happened very fast.

On the floor in the middle of the room were kneeling 2 vampires, the one facing me I recognized instantly as one of the ones from the night before. Between them, on her back, her legs forced apart to allow the blood sucker to kneel between them, her wings and her long emerald hair splayed out like a ghastly sacrifice lay Morrigan. Her slacks had been ripped to below her knees and the vampiress facing me had her fangs deep in the succubus' thigh. The one with her back to me was drinking from her victim's throat, and I gambled on the one with the fountain of Morrigan's femoral artery being the slower of the 2 to react. The projectile entered the nearer one's back, shattering her spine, and piercing her swelling heart like a cherry. The other vampiress came up, her mouth streaked with gore; Morrigan's blood. I had less than a second, and the creature moved faster than I could follow. I bent forward as though to re-load the crossbow and pulled the sword, making my cut blindly along what I knew was going to be the blood sucker's line of attack. Her inertia along with the force of my strike and the shaving-sharp edge of the blade, removed the head and left arm. It was a beautiful woman who launched herself at me but it was chunks of decomposing bone which clattered at my feet. The first vampiress seemed to be gone altogether.

As I dropped to my knees beside the fallen demoness, I noticed she wasn't bleeding. Unless she had been bled almost dry, that made no sense. I touched her pale face and her eyes tried to focus. Other than that, there was no sign of life. I looked down at her shapely legs, parted wide as though in invitation. Grasping her soft pink sex roughly, I thrust 2 fingers inside her, feeling the moist warmth of her. All at once there was a draining sensation, as though I were being sucked into a toilet bowl in the floor. Remembering my observations when I watched her feeding in the hotel lounge, I leaned over her prone body and covered her unresisting mouth with my own and forced my tongue between her lips. Then I passed out.

When I came to, I was still on the floor and someone was stroking my face. I opened my eyes and realized Morrigan was holding my head in her lap. As I looked up at her through her cleavage, her liquid green eyes spilled over with tears. She clutched my head with surprising force and shook me. I noticed fresh blood trickling from the twin punctures in her throat.

"I almost killed you," the succubus informed me through her tears. She laughed, pulling me tightly against her. "Even for a human, you're stupid." A tear dropped from her cheek and landed on top of my head. I grinned in spite of feeling like I had no bones. "Are you still mad at me?"

"I never was," I said with lips that didn't seem to work properly, and passed out again.


	4. Chapter 4

Dear Diary,

I don't ever remember being so frightened. Lying in the hotel suite with "Alex" in my lap, I began to realize that there were much more important things happening than a mortal lying to me about his name. The vampires had drained so much of my blood that I couldn't even stand. I played out the last few minutes in my mind as I fought with my hunger. My companion had known about Lilith...had seemed to have a clear idea of what her agenda was. I guessed he wasn't sure what to believe, but he'd had his chance to be rid of me and hadn't taken it. It was clear that we each had secrets we'd no intention of sharing voluntarily, but if this mortal had made the decision that mine didn't mean he was willing to leave me to the tender mercies of my enemies, then I could extend him the same courtesy.

I had just watched him kill 2 vampires without visible effort. Add to that his willingness to confront the werewolf in the woods and his cool competence when he helped me evade the vampires the night we met, and I had more questions than answers. What was Lilith's interest in him? It was clear now that I had been mistaken about the vampires being a threat to him; the target was obviously me, so why had she taken the time to confront him? Did she think that I was sufficiently attached to him to make him a useful tool against me? Best of all...who and what WAS he anyway? I didn't think that many mortal men travelled about the country with a sword and crossbow in their luggage. I supposed that not many mortals would not only recognize a succubus on sight but also know how to hide her from vampires either.

I stroked the man's head with a shaky hand as I struggled to control myself. My hunger was nearly overwhelming as my body tried to rejeuvenate itself. The external wounds were already healed, but the loss of blood was incapacitating. I had nearly drained the life out of Alex when he had tried to feed me. If he had died, I'd have been left in the room with a corpse and no way of feeding. I had no choice but to wait until my companion recovered enough to nourish me further. That he would do so, hardly seemed in doubt although all in all I had to begin to wonder why.

I looked down at the sleeping face and tried to wake him by force of will. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, almost mocking my desperation. I bent over him and before I realized what was happening, I was kissing his closed eyelids and his forehead. Between the lack of blood, and my ravenous desire for the life force which seemed to ooze from his very pores, I felt a swoon threatening to take me.

It was at that moment that I had my moment of clarity. Half sitting on the hotel room floor with my back propped against the writing desk, realization struck me. My mortal comapnion was marked by St. Jude. A demon hunter. If I hadn't been in so much pain, I might have laughed aloud. Lilith's attention made sense now. Some things, of course, still did not. Such as: why had he come to my aid on 3 occasions? Was it really an accident that we met? We made a much more incongrous pair than I had realized. Talk about being from opposite sides of the tracks. But the question remained...was I Juliet with fangs, or Tweety Bird in high heels?

Nevertheless, my questions would have to wait until my unlikely rescuer recovered consciousness. ...assuming, of course, that my desperately ravenous hunger didn't doom us both before then. I tilted my head back as far as the desk would allow and fixed my gaze on the ceiling. It seemed to take an eternity before I felt the man stir.

He was lying between my legs, with his head resting on my hip, his cheek pressed against my bare thigh. When his eyes opened, his face was scant inches from my exposed sex. I'm not sure what reaction I expected from him, only that I didn't get it. He smiled. Raising his head, he looked up and met my hungry gaze. The smile faded as he surveyed my face, then he slowly drew back from me, as though recognizing that I was dangerous to him whether I wanted to be or not.

Alex got to his feet with some visible effort, then turned away from me to rummage in his luggage, finally pulling out a small clear tube filled with something that looked like seeds. He unscrewed the cap and, tilting back his head, poured some of the tube's contents into his mouth. Putting the cap back on the container, the man chewed the seeds carefully before swallowing them and turning back towards me. "Flax seed," he answered my questioning look. "Speeds up the metabolism. I'll be able to let you feed off me again soon."

The offhanded tone sounded slightly degrading but I let it pass, not entirely trusting myself to speak. He knelt beside me and stroked my hair, letting his fingers brush against my throat. Then he reached down and gently touched the ugly purple bruise that marked where the vampiress' fangs had torn into my thigh and tamed my brief but desperate struggle. The wound had healed over, but it was still accutely tender and he glanced at my face as I winced. His fingers moved away from the bruise but didn't stop touching me. His other hand slipped under my arm and he slowly gathered me up as carefully as if I was as fragile as a crystal sculpture.

I was carried to the bed and gently laid on the quilt. His eyes didn't leave mine as he carried me, as though he were watching for the slightest sign of discomfort. He fanned my hair across the soft pillow. I offered a weak smile. "It's stopped snowing," I murmered, finding the silence between us uncomfortable.

"I know," Alex replied. "I expect we'll be moving on in the morning."

I studied his expression, trying to decide if he wanted me to be afraid. I felt that after the things we'd shared in the last 2 nights, it was unfair to be so suspicious of him. I needed an ally more than I ever had in my life and I didn't want to risk pushing him away. Something must have showed on my face because he frowned at me. "No thinking," he said with mock sternness. "You need to be rested up enough to at least walk tomorrow."

The knot in my chest that I hadn't even realized was there loosened. Still, I wanted to hear the words. "I'm scared, you know," I whispered, not liking how pathetic I sounded.

"Good," he said with a forced grin. "Fear helps keep you alive."

No help at all. I still wasn't sure if he was being purposely obtuse. Judging by the fact that Alex seemed to have had no doubt that I'd return when I felt the vampires pass me, it was a safe bet that he was more confident of me than I was of him. Maybe I was just being paranoid, or maybe there was just more at stake for me. Then again, he hadn't had nearly 3000 years to hone his cynicism. I told myself that at least we had an even playing field in having reason to regard ourselves as one another's prey, but it didn't really wash considering I was completely helpless.

The truth was that by killing Demitri's minions, Alex had made himself a target. We were both fugitives now, like it or not. I had not chosen my position, but the mortal had. I couldn't even fool myself that he didn't understand the situation. We needed to trust each other if we had any hope of surviving, and the problem seemed to be one sided. I was the one who needed reassurance, and for that I needed to know where I stood, so to speak.

Without a position of strength or even equality to work from, I decided to cry. I wasn't terribly surprised at how easily tears came. A tool for manipulation it might be, but it was also wonderfully therapeutic. Alex got to his feet and for an awful moment I thought he was going to walk away. Instead, he bent over me, placed his hands on my hips, and hoisted me towards the middle of the bed. Sitting next to me, he dabbed at the tears on my cheeks with the back of his hand.

I gave up. His face was distorted by the moisture in my eyes and I tried to blink it away. "May I ask something unfair of you?" I whispered.

"Ask me anything," he said kindly. "But if it's too unfair, I can't make any promises."

"It IS unfair, I think," I replied. "But if you don't answer, I'll probably beg anyway. I need to hear you tell me you're not going to abandon me."

He regarded me with no change of expression for what seemed like a very long time. Then he looked away. "You're right," he said. "That's unfair. I'm a mortal guy, Morrigan. I have no supernatural powers. But I stuck by you when you were attacked by 2 vampires and a werewolf. I'd like to think you'd start just counting on me by now."

We both agreed that I was being unfair, but he'd given it to me anyway. Now he would be angry, and I feld ashamed. I had caused the tension between us and I wasn't sure how to fix it. I looked at him but he didn't meet my gaze. He didn't move away from me, either, and it suddenly dawned on me that the look in his troubled eyes wasn't anger at all. How could I have been so unspeakably stupid?

While I had been trying to bring him to heel with glamour and allure, he had been resisting me. Not out of a need to be in control, but because he was genuinely attracted to me. He didn't want me to see him as food like other mortal males, so he refused to treat me the way they would. While our time together had been a game of power to me, I'd completely missed that Alex wasn't playing. He hadn't trusted me to come back when the vampires had come, he had meant for me to flee, while he made sure they wouldn't pursue me.

"You know what I need from you," I said quietly. "Do you still want to give it to me?"

He nodded and said nothing, getting to his feet instead and removing his shirt. He was unfastening his belt when he spotted my shaking head. He paused, raising an eyebrow. I was so glad I finally understood this. "Not like that," I whispered. "Come closer."

He did so and I drew him nearer until he was forced to half lie on the bed. I tried to get to the buttons of my blouse but my arms were too weak, and after a few seconds Alex helped me, an expression of aprehensive puzzlement on his face. Lifting my chin, I murmered in his ear, "remember how you said that sex wasn't surrender to me?"

He nodded, his braided goatee tickling my shoulder. I squeezed my bare breasts against him. "Well," I whispered, my lips brushing his cheek, "this IS," and I took his earlobe into my mouth slowly, drinking in a draught of his heightened energy and using it to wrap an arm over his body.

When I awakened, Alex was already awake; perhaps he hadn't slept at all, though I doubted it. He smiled as my eyes opened. I smiled back, noting that it didn't seem to take an effort. I propped myself up on an elbow and looked at my companion. A glance at the clock told me the day was starting, but I didn't want our moment to end. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get you," I said.

"Me too," he replied, his smile turning into a grin. "How are you feeling?"

"So far so good," I answered, reluctantly watching our intimacy fade away. I swung my legs off the bed and tentatively tried my weight. Definately not my usual perky self but at least able to stand, I decided to salvage my intimate moment by trading it for a playful one. With an exagerated sway of my hips, I sashayed around the foot of the bed and displayed myself saucily for the shirtless man now sitting up on it.

"Are you deliberately teasing me?" Alex asked. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't a serious question.

I spread my arms and put a look of innocent surprise on my face. "But of course not, silly mortal!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing that my feeling of well-being was somewhat disproportional to how much I had fed overnight. I was outright giddy. Apparently the emotional aspect of feeding off Alex was not to be underestimated.

He stood up and walked over to me, wrapping his arm around my waist. I leaned back against the strength of his casual embrace and rubbed myself against his jeans, completely forgetting that my slacks were all but gone. I emitted a started yelp at the unexpectedly intense sensation, and Alex laughed at me. He pulled me closer and kissed my forehead. "Come on, little lady," he grinned. "We have a bus to catch."

Our moment was over for the time being, so I went into the washroom and began cleaning the blood off myself while Alex re-packed his luggage. We had time to clean up and sit down while my companion ate breakfast before the Greyhound driver coralled us to board the coach. I had a moment of panic before realizing that Alex had purchased a ticket for me the afternoon before.

To our fellow passengers, Alex and I were simply a new couple who couldn't get enough of each other. The thought brought a smile to my face. The seeds were everything the man said and more; over the next few hours, I drank enough life force from him to kill 2 men and he seemed unaffected. We cuddled and smootched as the mountain scenery paraded past the coach windows.

We were out onto the flatlands of the Fraser Valley when we came upon the highway accident. There were no emergency vehicles on the scene, and the wrecked automobiles completely blocked the road, forcing our coach to a halt. "Everyone please remain in your seats," the driver cautioned us over the PA and his voice could be heard calling the Greyhound company dispatch. After several calls with no response, Alex stood up.

The driver spotted him as he approached the front of the bus and turned in his seat. "Please, sir, you need to remain seated," he told him rather sternly.

I didn't hear Alex's reply, but the driver nodded agreement and opened the folding doors and allowed him to step out onto the pavement. Then I lost sight of him as he walked towards the scene of carnage. There had to be a dozen vehicles strewn across the 4 lanes of highway. A vague sense of unease came over me as I waited for Alex to get back to the coach. From a few seats ahead of me I heard someone say, "there's no one moving around at all."

Over the next minute, my unease grew into outright fear. I couldn't explain it, but there it was. I found myself desperately wishing Alex were back beside me. Suddenly two things happened at the same time. A woman near the front of the bus screamed and my nameless fright coalesced into a stark sense of rapidly approaching danger. I leaped to my feet and stared forward as several other passengers craned to see what was happening. The driver gave a startled shout as I caught sight of Alex running madly towards the bus with at least 30 figures stumbling in pursuit.

The backup alarm began to warble as the bus driver tried to reverse the coach away from the crash site. With a flick of his arm, he opened the doors and Alex mounted the steps at a run. Dropping my pretenses, I shoved my way to the front of the coach to find my companion winded but unhurt. The bus was pulling away from the shambling horde of mobile but mutilated crash victims, but the driver was fighting to control the long vehicle in reverse. For perhaps 45 seconds, he kept it on the road, struggling for control, before the rear of the coach slewed, spilling passengers into the centre aisle, and slamming the vehicle onto the grass median. Wild eyed, the driver tried to get us back on the pavement to no avail, as the rear wheels spun uselessly on the wet earth.

"Where is my travel bag, sir?" Alex asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

The driver looked at him blankly. Alex started towards him, but I intervened. Dropping to one knee beside him, I fixed his eyes with my own. "Sir," I said firmly, trying to grab his full attention. His panic was overwhelming him. I plucked at the top fastened button of my blouse and pushed my power out at the stricken man. We had less than a minute before the zombies were upon us, and I very much wanted my companion to have his weapons. The driver's mouth opened slightly as he looked at me, his eyes fixing on my cleavage like a deer mezmerized by the headlights of an oncoming car. I reached out to touch his arm, and he raised his gaze to meet mine.

"Please," I made my voice as plaintive as possible. "I need to get to our bag."

"Where were you sitting?" the man asked dreamily, his panic momentarily forgotten. I was at a loss.

"14 c," Alex supplied but the driver didn't hear him. I was his whole world.

"You're very beautiful, you know that, right?" the bus driver told me, reaching to take my hand.

Fighting to keep the tension from showing, I gave it to him. "Thank you," I said, favouring him with a tender smile. "I've been sitting in seat 14c and I really need to get to my travel bag. Can you please tell me where to find it?"

"It's in the compartment down below, honey," the man said uselessly. "I'll get it for you."

'Damn.' I cursed silently. I looked up and gave Alex a helpless shrug as the bus driver got to his feet. "Please hurry," I urged.

My puppet seemed in no particular hurry as he led us off the coach and I guessed we were down to at best half a minute until we were overrun. I sensed another undead force nearby; something large. I pictured in my mind a moose or similar animal killed at the side of this highway re-animated by the same force that had awakened the dead in this dreadful auto accident. At the moment, I didn't think it would be terribly relevant if my fellow bus passengers saw my true form. Staying alive seemed more important. I turned to face the treeline some 150' away and saw a large bear crash clumsily through the tall grass.

"Aw crap," Alex said, and I turned to see him following my gaze. At that moment, the bus driver stooped to open one of the luggage compartments. Leaving my companion to deal with the human undead, I spread my wings and launched myself towards the lumbering beast.

I didn't want to risk pitting my strength against the creature's in my weakened state, so I angled my flight path slightly high of it. As I passed overhead, it reared up and swiped at me with a paw larger than my head, and I grapped the massive furry arm, letting my momentum tear it free from the body in a spraw of rotted flesh. Hurling the limb away, I climbed some 50' into the air and curled my wings around my legs to protect me as I fell. The weight of my body made me a deadly projectile as I struck the undead animal atop the wounded shoulder, ripping the head off. Over half a ton of rotting meat sagged immobilized into the dew covered undergrowth. I turned back towards the bus in time to see Alex pull his katana from the khaki green army duffel bag and turn to face the advancing zombies.

It took me scant seconds to reach the highway, but already it was plain my companion didn't need my help. With my facade firmly back in place, I shepherded the driver back on board. Within moments, the brief battle between human "spirit warrior" and the group of undead was concluded and Alex was back at the doors to the coach. I glanced out at him as the driver continued to try to paw me affectionately. My companion beckoned to me and I demurely dislodged myself to join him out on the road.

"What're the chances this is isolated?" Alex asked me, his demeanor meticulously stable.

"None," I answered. "Whatever did this is extremely powerful."

"Meaning this isn't something that can just happen?" he asked. "Someone or something sentient caused it?"

I nodded. "Necromancy is magic older than either of us. This happened for a reason."

"Bummer," he said, once again exhibiting his talent for understatement. "Then let's get this buggy pointed back the way it came."

Alex organized the heftiest of the male passengers to come out onto the highway and pull on the front of the coach while the driver eased forward. The attention focused at the front of the vehicle freed me to wander around back and, when I heard Alex shout "Heave!", I pushed it back onto the road.

Within minutes, the Greyhound MotorCoach was eastbound on Highway 1 out of the Fraser Valley. I don't think anyone on board noticed us missing.

As we walked west along the deserted 4-lane road with Alex packing his duffel bag over his shoulder and his katana tucked in the left side of his belt he casually remarked, "It's going to be a hell of a Christmas."

I had to agree. Usually when I ventured into the corporeal realm it was to feed and find a bit of excitement among the mortals. I was certainly getting more than I bargained for this time.

Alex broke stride and paused to look at me. "Is life around you ever dull?" he asked.

Curiously enough, I had been thinking of asking him the very same question.


	5. Chapter 5

Dear Bobby,

I have serious doubts that you'll ever get this letter. I think I'm writing more to preserve what's left of my sanity than anything else. I woke up this morning with a succubus in my hotel room, and now I find myself going down for a nap as best I can in a world gone completely mad.

The snow had stopped early the evening before, and first thing in the morning, Morrigan and I boarded the coach headed westbound out of the mountains. I was thoroughly buzzed on flax seed and my demon companion was making full use of the opportunity to recover by feeding off my excess energy. Every few minutes, she'd lean into me and invite my earlobe into that soft warm mouth of hers. Sometimes as I found myself staring at her in the seat next to me, I'd find myself sensing the trap which had enfolded countless men before me. Watching the rise and fall of her impossibly large and shapely breasts beneath the thin and revealing blouse she wore, or gazing at the delicate heart shape of her innocent face, it was easy to confuse the hunger she was fighting to contain with amorous intent. For her part, Morrigan did nothing to help, responding to my stares with a coy smile and a tender squeeze of my hand.

Just outside of Hope, we were stopped by a large traffic pile-up, and that's when things started to go spectacularly wrong. The scene of the crash swarmed with the animated bodies of the men and women who had died in it. Flesh eating undead with seemingly little thought process, but with instead the driving instinct to devour the flesh of the living. What followed was probably a much-needed reality check for me, as my companion killed a zombified grizzley bear and pushed the 60' motorcoach back onto the highway like a kid's soapbox race car. Over the last couple of days, I had forgotten the feel of those dainty fingers around my throat. Morrigan's diminutive stature and delicately feminine figure created an illusion of vulnerability and gentleness that made it easy to forget what she really was. It was something I was going to have to work on keeping in mind.

With the buslaod of scared people headed east back into the mountains, my demonic companion and I began walking deeper into the Fraser Valley. Neither of us seemed to have much need for charades at this point so I had my old army kit bag slung over one shoulder while my wakizashi was tucked tighly into my belt on my left hip. It had already proven fairly effecient at decapitating animated corpses. Morrigan was no longer bothering with her illusion either. Her long thick pale emerald hair cascaded down her back, and her wings swayed with the motion of her hips as she walked. It occured to me that we had several days hiking ahead of us and in the heels she was wearing the trip would be utterly inconceivable for any human. The thought made me smile.

"So," I said, breaking the silence. "Those things were zombies like in "Dawn of the Dead?"

"Something like that," Morrigan replied. "Only their bodies are present. Their souls are gone. They are animated only by the force which raised them. They have no will except that which the necromancer gives them."

"Other than the will to eat people," I offered.

The succubus shook her head. "That is imposed on them also. Most of those bodies were at least partly consumed. Corpses don't digest, so they're feeding to strengthen their master. The more flesh the zombies eat, the more powerful the necromancer will become."

The ramifications of this were almost too terrifying to contemplate. "Being chewed on by a zombie infects you and makes you into another one, so it keeps spreading?" I made it a question. Funny how my survival was going to depend more on an education gleaned from late night horror flicks than anything I learned in college.

Again, Morrigan shook her head. So much for that theory. "Not exactly," she said. "Anything dead will be animated by the same force. So if you're killed and eaten by the zombies, yes, you'll join them. But if you trip and hit your head on a rock and die, the same thing will happen, but you'll be more intact and thus you'll make a much sturdier zombie."

"Swell," I replied. "So, what's the defense against this?"

She gave me a look that implied I had said something incredibly stupid. "Don't die," she said.

We walked on in silence for some time, the only sounds were the clicking of Morrigan's heels on the pavement and the occasional sigh of wind in the trees. We had left the snow line a few miles back as the coach descended from the mountains, but there was still a crispness in the air. I was glad of the effect of the flax. A glance at my companion showed she felt the chill as well, but if it bothered her, she gave no sign. I saw her pixie smile and realized I'd been busted.

"Are there any good tricks for killing these things?" I asked finally.

"You can't, because they're already dead," Morrigan replied. I was beginning to feel patronized. "You can disable them but you can't remove the force that animates them by damaging them."

"Well, if it can't move because it's been damaged too much, it's dead in my book," I said with some irritation.

"Then re-read the book, Alex," she said, giving me a hard look. "Because you can't kill them. Not theoretically, and not practically. The best you can hope to do is damage them in such a way that they can't harm you. Without legs, they cannot walk, without arms and hands, they cannot grab. But they don't feel pain and they don't die. If you remove the head, the nerve system no longer controls the body. But both are still functional. Forgive me for sounding short, Alex, but you know these things...or at least you should."

"Why's that?" I enquired. "I don't remember "fighting the undead" being any of the electives I didn't take. I couldn't afford the tuition at Hogwart's."

Morrigan gave me a puzzled look and I guessed my feeble attempt at humour was wasted. "Who trained you?"

"For what, specifically?" I asked.

"The "supernatural"," she replied. I could hear the quotations in her voice.

I shook my head. "They didn't teach a lot of that when I was growing up. Algebra was about my limit."

She studied me carefully. "The light of St. Jude is very strong in you," she mused. "Yet your knowledge seems so limited."

At this I took slight offense. "Listen honeybunch," I said sternly. "As it happens, I'm fairly good at what I do. If you were in a sinking ship or a burning fuel barge, you could do a lot worse than to have me coming your way. But fighting zombies was never offered as a course for annual training week."

Morrigan was looking at me uncertainly. "But you're a demon hunter..."

I laughed aloud. "Sorry, wrong guy," I replied. "I'm a Lighthouse Keeper with Her Majesty's Canadian Coast Guard. I live on a rock and watch for people in trouble on the sea. We're trained to be versatile, but this is new stuff for me, so there's going to be a bit of a learning curve."

"St. Jude is the patron saint of those at war with the forces of evil," the succubus said. "His light is very strong in you as I said. Lilith saw it also."

"Well," I said with a shrug. "He's also the patron saint of lost causes. To a mariner in trouble, we're the last line. When the helicopters can't get to you, and the cutters and planes and SAR techs are all out of reach, and all is lost, then it's our party." I tried to sound casual about my profession and what my father had devoted his life to as well, but I couldn't keep the pride out of my voice. "See, you're a demon, so if I was a demon hunter, wouldn't we have issues?"

"I confess, I found that a little..." she was cut off abruptly.

The sound was like a bubblegum bubble popping albeit amplified a few times. The zombie seemed to jump out of the earth at the side of the highway perhaps 10 feet from where Morrigan stood. It was a man, or had been at one time, but was well decomposed. There was an open rib cage at the midsection and the entrails were missing. What remained of the creature's clothing was tattered and mouldy, but a faded Union Jack was emblazoned on the outer thigh of the pants.

In the zombie's skeletal hands was a dirty electric guitar. 'Not even acoustic,' I thought irrationally. 'The ultimate unplugged roadside concert.'

But this zombie was different from the others. The eyes had intelligence in them rather than the flat reptillian blankness of the others. I had a feeling we'd just met the necromancer.

The creature fixed it's gaze on Morrigan, it's fleshless mouth forming a broad grin. With a quick flick of it's fingers, it strummed the presumably useless guitar. To my stunned amazement, a raucus note erupted from the instrument as electricity arced across it's body in a series of rapid-fire crackles. For an instant, St. Elmo's Fire swirled around the zombie's feet like glowing mist. In the silence that followed the thunderous guitar note, the world seemed to hold it's breath as the two immortal beings faced each other. Then the zombie spoke in a thick Australian accent. "Hello, Poppet."

Morrigan's hair was frizzled slightly from the ionization the spark show had created. "Zabel," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She took half a step away from the creature, her hands raised uncertainly.

"Lord Raptor, to you, Poppet!" the zombie shouted. With blinding speed, it thrust the guitar at her, the stem becoming a long shard of bone. I shrugged off my kit bag as Morrigan spun backwards, her shoulder clipped by the hideous weapon. As my companion caught her balance, I lunged at her attacker, drawing my sword as I crossed the gap between us. Some intuition warned me as the creature glanced in my direction, and I threw myself sideways, jarring my hip on the unyielding pavement. From the asphalt I'd been on an instant before, a chainsaw bar erupted, the teeth looking like chunks of bone, the chain howling.

That one gesture of dismissal was all I seemed to warrant, as the undead monster turned it's attention back to the succubus. With another pop, the creature vanished, leaving me lying on the pavement, and Morrigan staring wildly at the earth around her. Abruptly, another pop, and the zombie was at her back, it's right arm encircling her. The fingers plucked the guitar strings again, and this time I heard Morrigan scream, agonized accompanyment to the earsplitting musical note. Her body spasmed as the vicious snap marked the passage of voltage through her into the ground. In the aftermath, I could feel the charged air as though I'd been near a lightning strike. Morrigan struggled as the zombie pinned her arms to her sides, the guitar held against the front of her body. His other arm encircled her, the rotted forearm crushing her right breast while his palm cupped her left.

"Stop wiggling, Poppet," he instructed her, and she obeyed him. His fingers slid under the thin fabric of her blouse, squeezing her flesh. I wondered at the force it took to tame her like this. She looked at me as the monster groped her, still quivering from the jolt. If she was counting on me to think of something, we had a big problem indeed.

Raptor stuck his pinky finger out of Morrigan's blouse and caressed one of the guitar strings. There was a muffled sizzling sound and the succubus whined plaintively, her eyes clenched tightly shut. The zombie grinned, enjoying her pain. Fury shunted good sense to the back of my grey matter and I rolled to my feet. "Now now then, mate," Raptor chortled at me. "Don't be gettin' too excited now. 'nless o' course yer in a big hurry t'see the little one fry."

I glared at the zombie, my anger made all the more intense by it's impotence. He continued to grope her and I cringed each time his finger came near the guitar string. Abruptly, my companion's legs went limp beneath her and I started in alarm. A glance in my direction and Raptor lost his grip on Morrigan and she collapsed to the pavement. Abruptly, her wings arched upwards, slashing into the creature's groin. Raptor roared in pain and staggered away from her and I lunged at him, my sword whistling as I slashed at what there was of his midsection. Another pop, and he was gone, leaving me to cut empty air.

I whirled, acutely aware that the zombie could materialize at any instant. I felt something pass beneath me and turned again, seeing my companion kneeling on the pavement, her head cocked in a listening gesture. I felt her power prickle along my skin as it spiralled around us, searching. After a few seconds, she looked up at me. "He's gone," she murmered. "For now."

I reached her side in 3 strides and dropped to one knee. "Are you ok?" I asked urgently.

She offered me a weak smile. "Depends on your definition," she said. She pulled open her blouse and pressed my hand against her bare breast. "I feel in need of a little tlc right now."

I held her tightly for several minutes, stroking her touselled hair with my free hand and kissing the top of her head. I thought about Raptor's last glance at me and what had happened the first time. The thought of what the little succubus had saved me from made me slightly queasy.

Several hours and a few miles later, we came to a rest area. There was a large Airstream motorhome parked near the picnic tables and I wondered briefly if anyone was alive. I decided there was little gained by us wearing down shoe leather, so I started towards the RV. Morrigan followed without a word. As we rounded the rear of the vehicle, we spotted the couple. They were seated in folding chairs and for an instant it looked as though they weren't dead. Then they looked at us and I saw that blank gaze. The woman had had her throat torn open, I saw as they rose as if to greet us. How the man had died, I couldn't say. But they were recently dead, and had both been in healthy condition. I was apalled at how readily I was getting into the role of a killer. The man reached me first and I drew the wakizashi and decapitated him in one motion. The body flopped to the ground as the head thudded like a dropped bowling ball and rolled several feet before coming to rest. I paused as the woman approached. Old teachings about never striking a woman immobilized my hand. Then Morrigan stepped past me and the female zombie reached for her. She grabbed the head with both hands and pulled the creature to her. As their lips locked, the zombie's hands beat impotently at the succubus' face.

Shutting the scene from my mind, I walked to the open door of the motorhome and climbed inside. A quick check revealed nothing living or dead. The keys were still in the ignition so I went back outside to tell my demonic companion that we were done walking. As I did so, she got up from kneeling next to the body of the male zombie. There was blood on her cheek. I turned away, as my vision swam. Not long before, I had tasted that soft, sensual mouth, and seconds ago it had been sucking on cold dead flesh. I sank to my knees and vomited into the grass.


	6. Chapter 6

Dear Diary,

My mortal companion finally confessed his real name to me. Stanley. Alex, he told me, was the name of his favorite comic book hero. This, along with his revelations about his line of work, had made our stroll along the highway quite pleasant for me in spite of still being somewhat tender from my struggle with Zabel.

But then we were underway in a vehicle I found myself wishing we'd never found. Stanley had seen me feeding off one of the zombies, and for the first time he saw me as a monster. He was trying to act as though nothing had happened, but there was a gulf between us that I had no idea how to bridge. I could sense his revulsion at what he'd seen and realized it was more than just me. He had chopped the head off the zombified body of a healthy looking man he'd never seen before and it bothered him a lot. I just happened to be paying the price for everything.

He was driving slowly down the 4 lane divided highway, so I murmered my intent and went to the back of the luxurious house-on-wheels to the shower. Thinking about what bothered Stanley made me feel dirty, and I proceeded to try to rid myself of the feeling with hot soapy water and a lufa pad. After I got out and dried off with the thick towels that carried the scents of the dead couple, I began to rummage through their clothing. The woman had been about the same height as me, and I wanted to replace my companion's baggy sweat pants.

I quickly gained the impression that the former "lady of the house" as it were, had a multifaceted personality. She had owned everything from frilled lace to studded leather. I selected a pair of purple stockings and matching opera gloves. This could, I decided lean towards either gothic or elegant depending on the dress. Seconds later, however, I spotted a black lycra bodysuit. It was strapless, and appeared to plunge deeply at the back. I pulled on the stockings and carefully wiggled into the bodysuit discovering that it had a small heart shaped cut-out right over my belly button. The back of the garment crossed comfortably just below my wings. My breasts slightly overflowed the top, but overall, I liked the feel of it. I slipped into the opera gloves, clipping the little lacey frills to the lycra on either side, then slipped my own boots back on.

With sudden inspiration, I looked for and quickly found a black felt marker in a drawer near the kitchen sink. Seating myself in the surprisingly spacious dining nook, I placed my left leg up on the table and went to work. Within a few minutes, I was finished. Faceless black bats decorated both legs almost to the tops of my boots. I stood up from the table and turned the bathroom door to survey myself in the full length mirror. I looked good, I decided; in a shamelessly slutty, vaguely gothic, blatantly sexual kind of way.

I looked up towards the cab of the vehicle and my enthusiasm waned. I wanted Stanley to like this.

I wouldn't have outright admitted that I had done it for him, but it was probably true. Knowing it was wasted didn't sit well. Nevertheless, I walked up to the cab and slipped into the passenger seat. "Hi," I said, just loudly enough to be heard over the sound of the road.

Stanley looked across at me and the smile seemed genuine enough. He raised an eyebrow and kept his eyes off the road long enough to take me in. "You look nice," he said.

"Thank you," I answered, bowing my head slightly. I'd have enjoyed the compliment more if I hadn't known that the thought of touching me would have made his skin crawl. I wasn't sure which hurt more, knowing that I repelled the man, or knowing he cared about me enough to try so hard to hide it.

I didn't realize I was crying until I heard Stanley's voice again. "Are you ok?" he asked, looking at me worriedly from across the engine cover. I shook my head and turned back towards the window as the afternoon light began to fade.

It was full dark by the time we began to make our way into the town of Hope. The electricity was out so outside of the splash of the headlights the darkness was complete. The roads appeared impassable, blocked by cars whose drivers had been killed in the midst of trying to escape. A short distance off the main highway was a strip mall and it was into this that Stanley guided our vehicle. We trundled slowly through a hedge and into the parking lot. There had to be more than 100 zombies shuffling around near the storefronts and a few of them responded to the headlights and the sound of our engine and began moving outwards to meet us.

I climbed out of the seat and made my way back towards the door of the vehicle. Abruptly the interior lights came on and I quickly locked the door. I cast Stanley an apprehensive glance but said nothing. "I need to get into that hardware store," he answered my unspoken question.

I peered forward. The store in question was a large Rona Building Supply. The most physically active zombies were in it's vicinity, and although most of the windows were smashed as they were all along the strip, it looked as though an effort had been made to barricade the openings. "There might be people alive inside," I mused.

"In that case," Stanley replied, "it might not be a good idea to drive through the front door."

"I can see if I can find a way in through the roof and let you in from inside," I suggested.

He was nodding agreement as he turned our mobile house away fom the storefront. "If we can get to the loading dock, there won't be any barricades to breach," he said.

I gave him a questioning look that he couldn't see because I was in shadow. "Why not?" I asked.

"Because the doors will be metal and pretty secure," Stanley replied. "If there's people inside, they won't have had any need to protect this entrance. From inside, you'll be able to just open the door."

I waited in silence as we made our way to the rear of the shopping plaza. Driverless trucks blocked our path, but we were in sight of the loading bay. Stanley shut down the engine and climbed out of the driver's seat while the sounds of a growing undead mob outside marked our increasing lack of time. My unease mounted with the passing seconds as my mortal companion tucked his sword into his belt and tightened up his clothing. My mind swirled with things I wanted to say, but with our circumstances worsening with every passing second, I kept silent.

Stanley gave me a wordless nod and I reached for the door catch. Every instinct made me want to kiss him...to make some sign of affection before this began, but I didn't dare. The look in his eyes forbade it. I opened the door.

A zombie barred my way out and I seized it's neck, ripping it's head from it's shoulders. Then I was outside and the undead made for me, their vague voices forming a collective groan that made my skin crawl as the mass of dead humans pressed towards me. I moved away from the loading dock, leading the dead away from where Stanley had to go, striking out with my wings at the flesh and blood- hungry beings closing in from all directions. I spared a glance over my shoulder and saw my mortal companion make his dash, neatly decapitating a young man with only half a face.

I had delayed as long as I dared, so I sprang skyward, spreading my wings above the shuffling mob. On the gravel roof of the plaza, I was alone. Alighting next to what could have been an air conditioner about midway down the building, I pushed it to one side, tearing some large bolts out of the roof in the process. Beneath was a pipe, perhaps 3' across and I dropped inside, scurrying some 40' before coming to a junction. Kicking open the joint in the pipe, I found myself in the steel girdered ceiling of a sizeable warehouse. Pale emergency lights illuminated the interior, and revealed racks of paint cans and pails directly below me. Bingo.

From my vantage point just below the high ceiling, I could see no sign of life, although I sensed several dozen living humans in close proximity. They weren't important at the moment so I ignored them in favour of scanning the rear wall. A wide pair of swinging doors provided my best lead to the interior side of the loading dock.

The high racks of products made flying inside the store impossible despite the high ceiling, so I dropped to the floor and ran towards the doors. The echoing clicks of my heels on the tiled floors only served to heighten my acute sense of dread and I smashed one of the doors off it's springed hinges as I raced through, looking frantically about me. There were 2 large garage-type doors to one side of the expanse of cement floor. Stanley had been right about the lack of barricades...the roll-up doors were steel. To my right was an office and beside it was a door in what had to be the rear wall of the building. It, too, was made of steel, with a steel frame set into the concrete.

Heart racing, I dashed to this door and discovered it closed only with a large deadbolt. Unlatching this, I pulled open the door. I spotted Stanley immediately, walking along a narrow wall, some 8' high that formed the opposite extremity of the turn-around area for the trucks. He was leading a procession of some 20 zombies which had thankfully not figured out how to get up there with him and were simply following along at ground level. As soon as he spotted me in the open doorway, Stanley glanced ahead, then turned and jumped down to the pavement. Most of his entourage were freshly dead, so they were quick to pursue, but he was quicker, and I stepped back from the door as he sprinted inside and slammed the door.

I was so overjoyed to see him intact, that my arms were already raised as I stepped forward to embrace him. By the glow of the emergency lights, I saw him flinch, then steel himself for my touch. I froze, lowering my arms as a stab of pain like a dagger pierced my heart. The hurt must have shown in my eyes, because Stanley started to reach for me, trying visibly to hide the effort. I turned away from him, and walked towards what remained of the interior doors. His revulsion was painful enough..pity would have been unendurable.

As I stepped into the store proper, I failed to notice the proximity of the other mortals.

The man who grabbed me was large, with thick muscled arms, and he pulled me completely off my feet and spun me around, crushing my wings against him. One arm wrapped around my waist, trapping my left arm, and the other circled my upper body, pinning my right arm to my side and conveniently placing his hand on my still-tender left breast. An instant of blind fury at the affrontery of this mortal forced me to suppress an almost irresistable urge to rip him in half. I almost laughed aloud...3 days in the company of my Lighthouse Keeper, and already I was getting accustomed to being treated like a lady. Then the big man's fingers gave me a squeeze, and I emitted a yelp of genuine pain.

I was turned slightly, and found myself facing another man, this one wielding a machete and approaching me with a grim set to his features. "You may want to reconsider this," I suggested evenly.

"Oh?" machete man responded, meeting my gaze. "How come?"

"Because," I said. "I think my boyfriend is getting a little tired of seeing me get manhandled."

I cast a quick glance across my right shoulder. Machete man followed my look and turned to face Stanley, who was walking directly towards him out of the dimly lit loading area. His face had a disconcerting lack of expression, and he seemed almost to be looking through the man as though he were not even there. Machete man stopped and set his stance, prepared to physically block the much smaller man's path. At the instant it seemed the little Lighthouse Keeper would, in fact bump into the other man, he casually reached across his own body and his fingers closed around the sword. He drew the weapon straight out, the butt of the sword striking the bigger man in the centre of the chest. Machete man followed his own weapon to the floor, his breath leaving his body with an explosive "whoosh."

Without breaking stride, Stanley fixed his eyes on a point just above my head. His sword hissed sharply as he twirled it around and gripped it with both hands. My feet brushed the tile as the man mountain holding me retreated a partial step. Stanley was coming at us, the sword drawing back, and for one awful instant it seemed he would kill us both. My assailant, apparently, had the exact same thought. He shoved me away from him and took another step backwards, tripping over something and sprawling headlong to the floor. I caught my footing and pressed my back against a rack of power tools as Stanley stepped past me, inverting the sword and placing one hand over the butt. The blade pointed downward, he raised the weapon to plunge it through the big man's midsection.

I took a guess and hoped I wasn't wrong. "Alex, wait!" I cried, reaching out to touch Stanley's arm.

He paused and looked at me. "Please," I said, my tone and body language imploring. "There's enough killing going on."

Stanley lowered the weapon and stepped back from the terrified man. Just like that, everything changed. I became the approachable one and Stanley became the scary one. He still hadn't spoken a word since I had been grabbed. He snapped the sword across his body and sheathed it without looking at the blade. I suppressed my admiration. If the 2 men watching weren't impressed, they were fools.

As Stanley walked away, I bent over the man who had seized me. "Please," I whispered. "Just keep out of his way. We'll do what we came for and be gone." Then I ran after my mortal companion, taking tiny steps to give the impression of exagerated hurry.

We rounded a corner and started up an aisle before Stanley looked at me. I was happy to see a small smile. "That was cute," he said.

I turned away and looked at him out of the corner of my eye, sticking out my hip saucily. "Why, thank you," I purred.

His expression grew more serious, so I stopped trying to be playful. "Why didn't you defend yourself?" he asked.

I almost gave a glib response and thought better of it. I looked at the floor and considered a moment before speaking. "I don't want to be a monster in your eyes," I said finally. "I don't want to be Wonder Woman either. I liked how you made me feel the night we met. I'd like to be your little damsel in distress again." I looked up and met his eyes. "I wanted you to rescue me."

At that moment, we were interupted by the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass.

My tender moment was gone. Stanley spun away from me and headed towards the front of the store at a dead run. I followed, hearing the voices of other mortals shouting around us. Someone apparently beat us to the scene of the action as blood chilling screams broke out ahead of us. Stanley froze at the end of the aisle, then looked to the right before dashing off. I rounded the corner and was confronted by at least a dozen undead who had breached the make-shift barricade at the front of the store.

One young man in overalls was flailing desperately with a broken axe handle as the zombies tore into him with the ghastly enthusiasm no other creature in my experience could emulate. Some 30' away, the man who had manhandled me a few moments before came charging in with seemingly no plan at all. I gathered my power and hurled it towards the stricken boy. It hit the undead like a blast of grapeshot and in an instant, the young man looked like a child's doll dropped in the middle of a smashed watermellon. The effort left me momentarily drained, and if I hadn't had a display rack to lean on, I would have fallen.

The big man ran to his wounded companion, oblivious to me. More zombies were clambering through the smashed window and other humans were fighting back desperately with assorted implements. I wondered where Stanley was, then my answer came in the form of his shout from nearby. "Get away from there!" his voice held a surprising note of command I hadn't heard from him before. "NOW!!"

I think the other humans were too surprised to think of questioning him, and they drew back from the incoming undead. An instant later, a harsh petroleum stench hit my nostrils, followed by an explosion of fire that engulfed some 20' of the storefront. The zombies gutteral moans became shrieks as the flames enveloped them, and into that miniature firestorm strode my human, his sword striking with swift and deadly precision. When the flames died out, the tide of undead had been stemmed.

In the moment after the brief battle, Stanley stood in the remains of the fire, surrounded by ruined bodies, facing the breach in the make-shift barricade, feet apart, his weapon in front of him pointed at the floor. In sillouette from my viewpoint, he looked like a mythic warrior on an ancient battlefield. He turned to the nearest human. "Get a forklift up here and start moving skids of paint cans to the front to shore this up," he said. "All along the front here to support the plywood."

"Yes sir," the man nodded and headed back towards where Stanley had entered the store. Over the next 5 minutes, fortifying the break consumed the attention of all the humans, who seemed to be grateful to have someone finally take command of them. Except for one. The huge man who had assailed me knelt on the floor some distance away, cradling the courageous but foolish young man who had been swarmed. I went to his side. He looked up momentarily, but didn't even seem to recognize me. His eyes were full of tears.

I looked the young man over carefully. The wounds were horrific and he was losing blood quickly. I placed my hands under the body and lifted the boy from the big man's unresisting embrace. Using a check-out counter as a table, I laid the young man out. I noticed that a middle-aged woman had followed me,as well as the large man. She eyed me cautiously. "Don't be afraid," I said. "There are far scarier things than me about tonight."

She walked up to the counter, still visibly uneasy. "I'm a paramedic," she told me. "Maybe I can help."

"Please do," I told her, and she bent over the boy. Again, I was struck by his youth. 20, perhaps, I thought.

"I'm going to need some cloth to wrap the wounds," the woman said. "And more light."

I turned to the obviously distraught man. "Find some flashlights," I instructed, then turned away to find Stanley. I located him back at the scene of make-shift construction, and caught his eye. "I need cloth that'll work as bandages. Where would I look in a store like this?"

He considered a moment. "Paint area," he said. "Drop cloths...not the plastic ones."

I nodded my thanks and headed for where I had first opened the air vent. Within seconds, I found what Stanley had described and returned to our impromptu emergency room. The man I had sent for flashlights had returned with several, but no batteries. While I went looking for those, the woman began dressing the boy's injuries as best she could. By the time we were organized as well as we were going to be, the men were beginning to gather. Suddenly, my human was beside me. "Is that the guy you rescued?" he asked.

"Yes," I nodded. "But I don't think I rescued him."

I supposed we'd know soon enough, but I knew that if the boy died, the undead which were being kept outside would become the least of the worries for the humans inside.

"Who's that woman, a doctor?" Stanley asked.

"A paramedic," I replied. He nodded.

"Alright then, I'm going to gather some things," he said. "Give me a hand?"

"I need to be here if that boy dies," I told him.

Stanley's mouth formed a thin line. He nodded resignedly. "Understood," he said grimly, with a cautious glance towards the big man who seemed to be holding himself together with an effort of will.I stood apart from the humans as the woman did her work. a small group of men were gathered around the counter watching intently, while several others followed Stanley on his mission. They ended up, I noticed, forcing the Lighthouse Keeper to teach an impromptu class on the assembly and use of fire bombs such as he had used to clear the storefront. Several of the men began filling disposable plastic gloves with acrid-smelling paint thinner and tying them like water balloons. Cans of WD 40 sprayed across lit cigarette lighters became miniature blowtorches. Watching my human showing this little group of attentive young men how to create flame throwers out of garden fertilizer spray applicators and coat hangers made me think of children being taught guerrilla warefare in a world of civil war. Apparently saving drowning sailors from sinking ships was not all my mortal companion was trained to do.

Perhaps an hour passed like this before it became obvious to even the determined woman that the young man was dying. He lost consciousness with the big man I was now assuming was his father clinging to his hand. Twice I sensed the cessation of life in the youthful body and prepared to do what was now inevitably necessary, but twice the fiercely determined woman paramedic brought him back by breathing into his mouth and leaning on his chest. She was crying openly now, as though the boy were of her own womb although it was obvious he was not. I supposed her grief was simply a more extreme sensation to the annoyance I felt at my effort to save the boy from the undead mob having been wasted. She had more invested in him, and he was her own kind besides. I found myself wanting it to be over for her sake.

I felt the life slip away again, and almost instantly the woman began her desperate breathing and pressing but this time to no avail. She kept it up for more than 2 minutes without pause before the boy sat up on the counter. The big man was still clinging to that still-warm lifeless hand, and the new zombie turned towards him first. As the creature leaned towards the startled man, I stepped between 2 onlookers and grasped the dead boy by the head from behind. With the heart not beating, there was minimal blood when I twisted the head to break the bones and tear the ligaments, then ripped it clear from the shoulders. I tossed the grisly brain case aside, as the grief stricken man went stark raving mad.

The paramedic dropped to the floor in a dead faint, and most of the men backed away from the counter. The body of the young man now had no active control from the animated brain, but it had physical contact with the living man so it grappled with him. The man was seemingly oblivious to this and fixated on me. "You killed him!" the man screamed, his voice cracking. "You monsterous murdering fucking bitch, you killed my son!"

The man tried to lunge at me, but was entangled by the clutching limbs of the decapitated zombie. His intensity, however, galvanized the onlookers, who abruptly began to close in on me. In mortal terror, frustrated and helpless to fight an enemy they were at a loss to even understand, the humans focused their emotions on the visible representation of an enemy too monstrous to quantify. I crouched slightly, raising my wings and considered what to do. Before I could act, Stanley had burst through the shrinking ring of men and sprang upon the counter. A quick swipe of the little Lighthouse Keeper's sword freed the big man from the clutches of his headless dead son with a wet cracking sound. Then a shove from a scuffed workboot sent him sprawling to the floor for the second time that night.

I pressed my back to the cash register as Stanley stood above me, glancing around at the circle of men. There was an impressive array of implements in the hands of those mortals; several machetes, a pitchfork, a few axes and mauls, not to mention picks, and 1 cordless drill, in addition to the fire weapons in the hands of the men Stanley had just been instructing. But still no one challenged that sword.

"Back off," my human told the men. His tone wasn't what I had expected. "My lady didn't kill your buddy, he was already dead. She saved your lives. This kid had become one of those things that're trying to kill us all and she stopped him."

Stanley dropped to a crouch, lowering his weapon slightly. His voice was surprisingly compassionate. "Look," he continued. "I know we dropped in on you and I'm sorry for that, but we're just trying to stay alive, same as you are. We're not monsters. We'll just take what we need and move on."

I wasn't sure which captured more of my attention...the "WE're not monsters" or the potentially problematic concept of taking what we needed and moving on. Stanley's tone, while gentle enough and not particularly confrontational, didn't seem to leave room for negotiation on the point. I guessed that he would prefer that we do our business without bloodshed, but getting his equipment was more important to him than not killing anyone. This seemed fair enough, considering that without our help, the barricade would have collapsed and no one in this building would likely still be alive.

My human companion hopped nimbly off the cash counter, and I follow him back to where he had been holding his little seminar. The men parted. No one spoke, and every pair of eyes in the place followed us. Stanley handed me a plastic bag and 2 jugs of paint thinner, slung one of the modified plant sprayers over his shoulder, and led the way towards the rear of the store. He paused to look back once before we made our way into the dim loading area. I felt the humans' presences receding as we walked...no one followed us even to make certain we were gone.

Once outside, Stanley drew his weapon again, but we encountered no undead resistance on the way back to the silver "bus". Back onboard our stolen vehicle, I relaxed somewhat. I walked to the back, and placed the paint thinner in the shower stall.

"Lovely," Stanley said behind me.

"Hmmm?" I turned to find him looking at me.

"Sorry," he said, giving his head an uncomfortable shake. "Thinking aloud."

"What about?" I asked, trying not to push my luck by flirting too much. I walked back towards him, expecting him to make way but he didn't give ground. I stopped just before bumping into him, keeping my head level so I was looking directly at his chin. He raised his hands and gently framed my face, tilting my head back until I was looking up at him. I kept my arms at my sides.

"You," he said softly. I'd expected something of the sort, but part of me was taken unaware. I felt my power rise, and with it, the glamour. I forcibly supressed both, not wanting animal lust to ruin this. I wasn't sure if this particular man was capable of animal lust, but I wasn't willing to risk it. All at once, my body responded to him and the hunger overwhelmed me. I felt my legs weaken.

"May I...?" I began, and suddenly I was pressed tightly against him, one hand at the small of my back, the other between my shoulders.

"Yes," he whispered, and kissed me.


	7. Chapter 7

Dear Bobby,

I'm writing to you in an effort to calm myself. I'm not sure why I'm still alive, and I still don't know what, if anything is broken. It all happened so quickly that I'm having trouble piecing together exactly what took place. My watch got broken, probably in my fall from the driver's seat of the Gator, but judging by the sun it's well into the afternoon. I've probably been unconscious for a couple of hours. Morrigan is gone and as near as I can tell, I'm completely alone. I hope I can get the Gator upright and driveable again, so I get my mobility back and hopefully I'll be able to find medical help since there's no way to find out how badly I'm actually hurt. This is assuming there's still anyone alive in the city when and if I can get there.

I'm trying to shake the picture in my mind's eye of Morrigan's soft mouth parting in a terrible snarl baring her fangs and her arm striking out at me. In the days I've known her, she'd never looked more like a monster than in those few seconds. Then the explosion as the demoness' force hurled me out of the small vehicle and then blackness. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I woke up from a short nap in the RV early this morning with Morrigan in my arms after we pillaged the Rona Building Supply. I found myself staring at her in sleep, marvelling at her innocent lovliness and wondering yet again at my own feelings. How soft and beautiful she looked then...her long silken hair framing an almost childlike face. Her sensuous lips curved into a tiny cupid's bow and she moaned quietly as I caressed the bare skin of her arms, then the black fabric of her bodysuit betrayed her response my touch and I had to look away to compose myself.

When I turned back to her, her eyes were open and she was gazing up at me affectionately. Never in my life had I seen such a look of total adoration in a woman's eyes. The image of her embracing and kissing the corpse flitted through my mind, but it seemed so far away, like the memory of a wretched nightmare fading in the wash of morning wakefullness.

I forced myself to take a steady breath then bent to kiss my demonic companion. Her mouth was so soft and warm and inviting that I wanted to lose myself in her, but I had family ahead of us in Vancouver and Victoria. As long as there was a chance they might still be alive, I had to try to get to them. So I drew back from Morrigan, letting the taste of her linger on my lips, and slid off the settee.

By the time we left the town of Hope, we had looted a sporting goods store for a compound hunting bow and a generous supply of arrows. Someone had already helped themselves to most of the guns and ammunition as the smashed display cases testified. I preferred bows in any case because of their silence, and the crossbow was slower to reload. A gas station provided us with 30 gallons of gasoline, the lack of electricity to run the pumps causing us to have to get creative. Morrigan's supernatural strength made hand pumping an easier feat than it could have otherwise been.

I knew that the closer we got to the large city, the more likely it would be to find the roads impassible, so I was thrilled to spot a Gator ATV on the back of a landscape contractor's truck. It was big enough to carry our gear and us, and was capable of making decent speed as well as going around any obstacles we were likely to encounter.

Through all of this, Morrigan remained close to my side, seeming to have nothing better to do than accompany me on my mission to seek my loved ones. I was past being shocked by the awful carnage and death that surrounded us, and the fear in me was quickly developing a threshold. At one point, I wondered in awe at the capacity of the human mind to adapt to horror. I had never considered before how people in many parts of the world where death is never far off could go on with daily life knowing that at any moment a bomb could go off and bring their world to an end. I found myself looking up at the sky realizing that the sun was no dimmer or brighter than on any other day. I still don't know whether to be comforted by this or horrified.

We had been on the road in our second stolen vehicle headed east for perhaps 2 hours when I caught the change in Morrigan's posture. She had become alert, almost apprehensive. I throttled back the Gator and eyed her as she scanned the treeline carefully. Suddenly, she motioned me to stop and I obeyed, shutting off the engine when she cocked her head as though listening for something. I thought of the necromancer and how he had materialized from the ground, and cast furtive glances about us. All at once, Morrigan climbed out of the vehicle, her gaze fixed on the treeline.

"What is it?" I asked, trying to sound calmer than I felt.

"Zabel," she said, casting a quick glance in my direction. "And there's another powerful aura here. I think someone is fighting him."

"Any reason why we shouldn't go help them then?" I asked. The enemy of my enemy might not be my friend, but at least if not there could be one less enemy.

"None comes to mind," the succubus replied, taking a single step towards the trees, then stopping to wait while I stuck my sword in my belt and grabbed the new hunting bow.

The part of me that pointed out that Morrigan actually wanted me with her to confront the necromancer was flattered. The part that realized this meant that this ancient and powerful supernatural creature was actually afraid of him was unabashedly scared shitless. As prepared as I knew how to be, I stepped around the front end of the Gator and joined her. She placed one hand on my arm and looked at me intently.

"Are you frightened?" she asked quietly.

I wanted more than anything to play the macho man for her. "No," I replied. "I'm shorts-crapping terrified."

"Me too," she whispered. Abruptly, she stepped into me, catching me off guard, and wrapped her arms around me, clinging to me so tightly I could feel the power in her as she crushed her little body against mine. I embraced her firmly, and she moved her hands up my back, raising one stiletto-heeled boot to wrap her calf around my leg. Slipping my hands down to her bum, I lifted her up until she nibbled on my lower lip. Drawing back to meet my gaze, she whispered something breathy I didn't quite catch before covering my mouth with her own.

The kiss was tender and passionate, and I didn't want it to ever end. Finally, she withdrew herself with seeming reluctance. "We need to go," she said with firm resolve, and turned away, keeping her hand on my arm.

As we approached the trees, I began to hear a sound coming from the forest. Muffled though it was, there was no mistaking it. Zabel, or Lord Raptor as he liked to be called, was playing to a new audience. A few yards into the vegetation, we came to a well-kept gravel road and Morrigan led us along it as the raucous sound of the necromancer's so-called music grew louder. Finally, we rounded a corner and were treated to the sight of a freakish "concert of the dead".

At the far side of a broad clearing stood an old moss-covered homestead style house. All over the building was a spiderweb of electrical arcs, like veins showing on the surface of elderly skin. The front yard, if it could be called that, was filled with the undead, standing stock still as though waiting for something to happen. In a small rough circle a few feet off the porch stood Zabel, animatedly lashing at the strings of his guitar with fleshless fingers.

The moment seemed to hang suspended like a full moon in a cloudless sky. Zabel "played", his little army of corpses remained motionless as though in thrall, and my petite companion stood in mid step, her hand still on my arm. My mind seemed to have all the time in the world to take in the details. From the shapely curves of Morrigan's body and her pale emerald hair hanging down across her back like a silken cowl, to the clothing worn by the various zombies which stood waiting with their backs to us. Then all Hell broke loose.

Without so much as a glance in our direction, the macabre rocker shouted "Bring me their hearts!"

His minions rushed to obey. In a heartbeat, the entire mob set upon us and my companion spared one last squeeze on my arm before lunging skyward. Not bothering with the bow slung across my back, I jerked the garden sprayer wand out of the front of my pants, flicking the Zippo igniter on the end as i did so and squeezed the trigger, as my right hand crossed my body for the hilt of the dai katana. In an instant the dirt yard exploded in flames as the sprayer hosed down the advancing zombies with liquid fire and I took a long step back to widen my arc before striking with the sword. Smoke billowed back at me as dry rotted skin caught fire along with bits of old clothing and it all mixed with the black soot of burning petroleum.

Across the yard, Morrigan dropped from above onto the necromancer and her fight was joined. I couldn't spare more than a glance in the direction of the 2 supernatural beings as the undead mob pressed in towards me through the flames. Bodies fell in all directions as I cut at the things which had once been living men and women and were now mindless half-rotted monsters bent on tearing the flesh from my bones.

I couldn't say how long it took, but finally I stood alone amid the dismembered bodies lying several deep, my eyes burning from the smoke as though my eye sockets were lined with grit. The taste of burning flesh mixed with soot filled my mouth. I tried to keep from gagging as I looked towards the house, straining to see through the chalky air. I caught sight of Zabel, one arm missing, lashing out at the succubus with the stem of his guitar, and her blocking his attack with her leathery wings before leaning back to almost touch the ground behind her, bringing up one leg and catching the zombie with the spike heel of her boot. The necromancer staggered backwards, flailing with his one arm for balance, and Morrigan lunged in at him, catching him in her embrace, and her wings beat furiously as she hauled him upwards, swirls in the smoke and dust spinning wildly away from the downdraft she created. Some 20' in the air, the succubus thrust her victim downward, riding him into the earth with a bone-shattering impact.

At the same moment, the front door of the house opened and 3 people stepped out onto the porch. A young woman who looked to be in her early 20s, a much older woman, and a middle-aged man. All were completely naked. Something about them captured my attention and made my breath catch in my throat. Part of me wanted to cry out to Morrigan, but the nude people showed no obvious signs of threat, and I didn't want to distract my demonic companion.

For a moment, Zabel lay motionless in the dirt, and the succubus stepped back from him, glancing warily towards the house as though she had sensed the newcomers to the scene. All three pointed at her in unison and something inside me snapped. With a flick of my hand, I extinguished the Zippo and dropped the spray wand to dangle off my hip. At the same time I made to shout a warning to Morrigan that I didn't fully understand, but as my lungs filled with the filthy air, an excruciating cough tore away my voice and doubled me over with pain. Two things happened simultaeneously: Zabel vanished, seeming to melt into the earth beneath him, and a huge snake erupted from the dirt between Morrigan's feet. The serpent twined around her leg and flowed up her like living mercury, wrapping itself around her, crushing her in it's coils like a massive constrictor.

The succubus cried out in surprise even as I yanked the compound bow off my shoulder, notching an arrow clumsily as I regained my feet. My streaming eyes were fixed on the 3 naked people when I heard the bubble-popping sound of Zabel materializing behind my demonic friend. I didn't need to look to know what was happening, so I drew the bow and aimed at the young woman on the porch. "Let her go, or you'll see Hell before either of us," I managed to croak through my sandpaper throat, framing the woman's small breasts between the green and yellow sighting pins.

Whether they obeyed me and released her, or the alarm my threat caused made them lose concentration on the spell, the snake dissolved like a heat mirage just as Zabel lashed out at Morrigan. The bone spur on the stem of his guitar speared her between her legs and she screamed as he raked the grisly weapon upward across her back in a dramatic spray of blood, tearing her pretty black lycra bodysuit nearly off her and spinning her completely around. Morrigan lost her footing and fell into the dust with another plaintive cry even as I brought my weapon to bear on her attacker. Before I could release the arrow, a figure dashed from the shadows, clad in the crimson leather armour of a feudal Japanese samurai. I stared thunderstruck as the swordsman slashed horizontally, cutting Lord Raptor in half at what would have been his waist, then arced his blade downwards and finished with a vertical cut that effectively quartered the necromancer before the body had a chance to fall.

"Jesus Christ," I gasped as I watched the newcomer stand over the completely lifeless body of the creature which had caused the devestation of virtually eveything I had seen in the last 2 days.

"Not even close," a small voice murmered. I looked down to see that my demon friend had crawled across the dirt yard and was now shivering at my feet, her lovely hair dishevelled and dirty, her stockings covered in runs, and her right breast bare, her left barely covered by the remains of her bodysuit.

Before Morrigan's words registered in my mind, I stepped forward, placing myself between her and the naked witches. I looked across the yard at the samurai, the bow with it's notched arrow hanging loosely from my right hand. "Much oblidged to you, mister," I said to him, inclining my head slightly as a show of respect.

I thought I heard the word "move" but the voice from beneath that leather mask was not human. The gauntletted hand flicked almost casually, and I saw the polished steel coming towards me. I had no time to even begin to react, but as fast as the warrior was, Morrigan was faster, wrapping her wings around me from behind. The blade pierced the living shield, but stopped scant inches from my chest. I barely had time to recognize what had happened when the blade withdrew and slipped soundlessly through the air to it's wielder's outstretched hand.

I babbled something useless and unintelligable, before I felt Morrigan's hands like iron on my hips. Then I was airborne as she hurled me to the side to avoid the samurai's rush. There was a hiss of the razor sharp sword cutting empty air, then a huge thud in my ears as I landed on a pile of burnt dismembered corpses. I struggled painfully to my feet in time to see the succubus standing her ground as the samurai lunged at her. Seemingly mindless of the fact that she was now nearly naked, the pretty outfit she had made in the back of the Airstream RV hanging off her blood-streaked body in tatters. Her wings shielded her from the attack, but the warrior dropped to a crouch, slashing one-handed at her unprotected legs. Morrigan fell to her knees screaming. The samurai took a step back from his demonic opponent, then raised one gauntletted hand and threw something at her. A ghostly apparition materialized at her back, grabbing her long hair and yanking her head back until her body was bent over backwards, her hands flailing desperately at her captor. The samurai stepped towards his helpless victim and drew back his weapon, both hands wrapped around the hilt.

I heard someone screaming and realized it was me. Desperately, I grabbed for my bow, plucking an arrow from the quiver and dropping it. By the time I got my own weapon to the ready, the red leather clad warrior had plunged his blade between Morrigan's large bare breasts, silencing her cries. The katana protruded from her back, blood running down it's length to trickle off the tip into the dirt in a steady stream. The ethereal form had vanished, and the succubus looked up at her enemy with wide eyes, her mouth open as though in surprise as her fingers clawed impotently at the glistening steel which had pierced her, the useless effort serving only to slice her hands bloody.

Still babbling incoherently in a frenzy of fury and fear, I sighted on the warrior's neck where the helmet joined the shoulderplates, and released the arrow. With a satisfying sound of hollow impact, the projectile struck home, ripping the helmet off the shoulders of the suit of armour as though there were nothing inside it. My peripheral vision caught the 3 witches gawking from one of us to the next as though in complete bewilderment.

As I looked on in horror, the leather gauntlet jerked the katana out of Morrigan's body and pushed her face down into the dirt, leaving her partially nylon-clad bottom raised off the ground, her hair a tangled and bloody mess on the ground about her. Dropping the bow, I snatched the dai katana from my left hip and charged at the headless and seemingly empty samurai armour.

The sword swung outwards blindly, and I caught the blade on my own and twirled it groundwards, stepping sideways and bringing up my steel toed boot to kick the midsection. As I connected, the "body" seemed to explode, as though some force had struck it like a load of grape shot, blowing it apart and scattering the component plates across the dirt yard. I gaped in shock and found myself staring at the 3 witches on the porch with their fingers pointed at the spot Morrigan's enemy had occupied seconds before.

I couldn't know if I was next to be obliterated by the people to whose rescue my immortal friend had led us to the aid of. Beyond, for the moment at least, even caring, I collapsed by my companion's side, reaching out to touch her hair. As I did, she stirred. With a strangled cry, I siezed her shoulders, tipping her body sideways. Her eyes were open, shining from a still-lovely and fragile face smeared with the mud made from her own blood and the greyish dirt. Fresh blood seeped from the corners of her mouth as her lips silently formed the words, "kiss me."

For what seemed like ages, I could hear sounds around me was unable to even open my eyes. At first, it seemed that I was restrained in some way, but I soon realized that I simply lacked the strength to move. For awhile I allowed myself to drift in and out of consciousness. At last, I was able to raise my eyelids and saw that I was lying in a bed. I felt the presence beside me before I saw her. Morrigan leaned into my field of vision smiling down at me.

"Welcome back," she said.

I tried to turn towards her, but it was as though my whole body were made from lead. The effort must have showed because the succubus cradled my face with her hand and turned my head to the side. From this position, I could see that I was in a small sparsely furnished room with one dirty window that barely let sunlight through, and Morrigan was kneeling beside the bed where I lay covered in a thick blanket. Tears spilled over from her eyes and trickled down her smiling face.

"What happened?" I tried to ask, but I hadn't the strength even to move my lips and no words formed.

"It's ok, my love, don't try to talk yet," Morrigan murmered, running her fingers over my forehead tenderly. "The witches rescued us."

A derisive snort came from somewhere nearby and my demon friend looked up. The old woman I'd seen earlier walked briskly into my vision. She was now clothed in an elegant silver gown which looked almost comically out of place in the dreary room. "What happened, young man," she said as though I had spoken clearly, "is that you very nearly died. This beast almost killed you."

The old woman bent over me and peered intently into each of my eyes, then pried open my mouth and looked inside. She frowned and cast a scathing look at the succubus who remained on her knees next to me, accepting the elderly witch's obvious rancor with no visible reaction. I sudenly realized that she seemed entirely healed from her experience and was now wearing once again the filmy white blouse and black slacks she'd had on the night I met her. I guessed she'd returned to the Gator for her bag, but I wondered at how long I'd been out of it that her wounds had healed so completely. My gaze moved to her chest where the sword had impaled her, but there was not even a mark. Morrigan caught my look and offered me a coy smile, arching her back slightly to thrust her breasts out, earning her another venomous glare from the old woman. I tried to smile back, but my face wouldn't obey me.

Abruptly ,I sensed someone else in the room and the middle-aged man stepped into view. He was dressed in what looked like a satin suit, with polished black shoes. I began to wonder if Zabel's attack had roused these people out of their beds to have brought them outside naked, since dressing seemed to be taken rather seriously here.

"How is he, Maria?" the man asked.

The old woman snorted again. "Alive," she responded. "Barely."

The man peered down at me as though I were a surgery patient no one had expected to pull through. "Talia, please bring our guest a cup of tea," he said in a gentle voice. I couldn't tell to whom he was speaking since the elderly woman had answered to the name "Maria" but mere seconds later, the third witch entered the room in a sequined gown that would have looked right at home at a graduation dance. She was very plain looking, her face devoid of makeup, her body slim to the point of near-emaciation, but she carried herself with a quiet dignity that was as out of place as everything else I'd seen of these people thus far.

The young woman I'd threatened to kill handed a steaming mug with a spoon in it to the man, without so much as a glance in my direction. "Father," she said, bending her knees in a half curtsey as he took the mug from her hands.

Without a word, the man bent over me, lifted the spoon from the mug, and placed it to my mouth. The hot liquid burnt my lips and trickled over my tongue. If I'd had the strength, I would have gagged on the acrid concoction. It was like drinking a mixture of Vicks and charcoal. Before I knew what was happening, the spoon was back and more of this foul tasting so-called "tea" was passing my lips again.

My vision began to blur slightly and I turned my gaze towards Morrigan. She was becoming indistinct, almost like a tv image as the signal fades. I was fed still more of the nasty brew, and I suddenly found myself thinking of Hansel and Gretel. We were, after all, in a witch's house in the woods.

"Shit!" I thought as the room grew darker. I had survived vampires, a werewolf, zombies, and a supernatural samurai only to die being force-fed tea that was probably made from bat gizzards and newt eyes. It didn't seem fair, somehow.

"Who's Denise?"

It took me a few seconds to recognize the voice as Morrigan's. I opened my eyes and saw her seated on a wooden chair beside the bed looking at me curiously. I propped myself up on one elbow to face her, surprised at the feeling of strength in the muscles of my arm.

"Ex girlfriend," I replied without thinking. "Why?"

"You mentioned her name while you were dreaming," the succubus smiled. "Actually, you had a good deal to say, but I couldn't make out much."

I shrugged, sitting upright. It was at that moment that I realized I was naked, and Morrigan giggled as I pulled the blanket around myself, feeling my cheeks redden. She rose from the chair and planted herself beside me on the bed. Leaning just close enough so that her right breast brushed against my arm, she slipped her hand under the blanket. Her fingers explored me, barely touching my skin, and I found myself feeling absurdly like a teenager on his first date. It had obviously been FAR too long since I had been intimate with a woman.

Faintly surprised at my overall feeling of well-being, and not bothering to question the clean taste in my mouth, I gave over to the physical sensations Morrigan's talented fingers were bringing forth in me and closed my eyes. With trembling hands, I stroked the fabric of her blouse on the undercurve of her breasts, before letting my fingernail trace a line upwards from the top button through her cleavage to her throat. The succubus gasped and I felt the press of her puckered nipple against my bare arm, then our mouths found each other hungrily.

At that instant, the bedroom door opened and we both looked up sheepishly to face the old woman. This further added to the "teenager" sensation, as I felt ridiculously like I had just been caught by the local constabulary making out in the back of Mom's Buick. Morrigan withered under the witch's baleful glare. She cast me a quick saucy glance before returning to her seat.

"Not under my roof when I've worked so hard to bring him back to life," Maria glowered.

"Ah, ma'am, she wasn't..." I began, but stopped when the fearsome eyes fixed on me. I pulled the blanket tighter again and hated myself for not being able to look at her.

Just then, the man of the house entered the room and I felt a strange relief. "How are you feeling?" he asked me, while the old woman continued to look hostile.

"Quite alive sir, unless my senses deceive me," I answered. "And very much in your debt, I should think."

"You owe nothing," the man replied evenly. He had a curious manner of speaking and an accent I couldn't place. "We are alive because of you, and we have returned the favour to you both. All scores are settled between us."

With a sniff, Maria turned on her heel and left the room. I watched her go then gave the man an apologetic look. "I'm sorry to have been an imposition," I said.

"No imposition," he said. "The only thing Maria finds more distasteful than cubies are their familiars. Especially one in whom the Light shines so brightly."

"I see," I said tightly. I wasn't sure which was pissing me off more, the attitude of these self-riteous pricks or the fact that they had saved our lives.

"It is the nature of fire to burn," the man continued, casting a meaningful glance toward Morrigan. "Whether it keeps the winter chill at bay, or reduces your house to ashes, it will always burn what it touches because that is what it does."

I was so angry I couldn't speak. He held up a hand and shook his head. "Please forgive an old man for waxing philosophical," he said, offering the first smile I'd seen since we'd met. "I don't know you...either of you...who do I think I am to judge, eh?"

I disliked him more for taking away my rebuttal than for what he'd said to create it. Verbal fencing had never been my best talent and killing one's host seemed like poor manners, so I felt a bit impotent. I suddenly had a strong urge to be elsewhere.

"No worries," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. The man took the hint, smiling again. With a small nod, he turned and left the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

"What say we get out of here?" I asked, turning to Morrigan.

She rolled her eyes. "Love to," she replied, standing up and retrieving my folded clothes from the top of the dresser and handing them to me. I nodded my thanks and waited for her to turn away or leave the room but she didn't. She caught my hesitation and gave a small pixie smile. "How many times have you seen me nude?" she asked.

Grinning, I flicked the blanket aside and plucked my underwear from the pile. As I pulled up my trousers, Morrigan stood and stopped my hands. Looking up at me tenderly, she slowly did the pants up, then unfolded my khaki workshirt and slipped one sleeve over my arm. With slow gentle motions, she finished the job, making the simple act of dressing incredibly sensual. As she buttoned up my shirt, she paused to plant a warm moist kiss on my chest, then I shivered as she carefully tucked the hem into the waistband of my pants. Finally, the succubus gently nudged me to a sitting position on the bed again and knelt between my feet. Her delicate fingers gently eased my feet into my scuffed old Dakotas and worked the laces until the boots were tight from toe to calf before plucking the pant cuffs down. Then she rose gracefully to her feet.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

"Not soon enough for me," I replied and she took my arm as we left the room.

When we took our leave, each giving our thanks for the hospitality, only the curmudgeonly Maria took notice of us. Outside in the final light of late afternoon, amid the carnage of the recent events, I saw that someone had fetched the Gator for us and it stood a few feet from the porch pointed towards the road.

Once underway with the little engine purring contentedly beneath the plastic hood, my demon friend reached across and placed her hand on my thigh. I looked over to find her staring at me with the smallest of smiles on her lovely face. "Do I get to meet the people you have come through all this to reach?" she asked just loudly enough for me to hear her.

Well, we've still got a way to go yet," I answered. "But if they're still alive, yes, we're going to meet up with them."

Her smile took firmer hold of her features. "Well, anyone who survived until yesterday is out of danger," she said. "When Zabel died, his creations died with him," she responded to my arched eyebrow. "The dead are dead once again."

It took several seconds for this to fully register. Could it be that it was actually over? Had we really won? Of course there would be civil chaos once the threat of the undead was seen to be done with, but we had stopped the supernatural onslaught. I guess I believed Morrigan, because euphoria began to rise in me. I reached over and drew her to me and kissed her. I felt the goofy grin on my face and didn't care. After the fear and the pain and death, it was finally past us. It seemed like ages ago that this had all began in the lounge of the resort hotel up in the Rocky Mountains. But I still had my lovely companion and it seemed as though I really had a happy ending.

So it was that I was completely unprepared for what happened next.

With no other traffic on the highway, I was not even bothering to watch ahead of us, so it startled me when Morrigan stiffened and cried out in alarm. I spun my head towards the windshield in time to see a tall man standing in the middle of the road, spotlighted by the Gator's headlamps. I jammed on the brakes and stopped what seemed like inches from the man in the blue tux with matching cloak. "Dimitri..." I heard my companion whisper and glanced at her.

Morrigan's wings were raised and her lips were pulled back from her fangs in a feral snarl. I felt something above me and looked up in time to see Lily standing on the back of the Gator, wide black wings spread outwards, her hands glowing a deep violet. Morrigan struck out at me, knocking me almost over the low door of the ATV just as the small cab lit up with the burst of Lily's energy. I felt myself rising into the air helplessly and just had a single glimpse of Morrigan struggling as Lily seized her from behind and those terrible wings arcing inwards like spikes to pierce her from both sides even as the vampire lunged up over the Gator's hood towards her. Morrigan's scream was the last thing I heard before I hit the pavement and lost consciosness in an explosion of pain.


	8. Chapter 8

Dear Diary,

The end is not far distant, and the more I contemplate it, the more frightened I become. I do not face death in the same way as a mortal. The is no passing on for me, there is simply oblivion. I have no soul, rather it is my body which is immortal. Once my consciousness is expunged from my physical form, I will simply cease to exist. After almost 3000 years, the thought fills me with dread to the core of my being. At least the pain will finally stop.

I think it was the realization that Lilith and Dimitri were truly enjoying hurting me that broke me. If I had believed on any level that perhaps they might tire of their torments, it may have given me the strength to endure. But they seemed to delight in my pain as much as in the prospect of my ultimate surrender. I don't even know how long they've had me...it seems like forever, but I don't think I can have endured for very long. Days, perhaps. How long do I have left? I cannot say. Long enough for the horrific wounds they inflicted on my body to heal fully so that Lilith will not be in pain when she takes her place in my body. I was unable to resist the desperate hunger when Dimitri offered me his flesh to feed. I drank deeply from his seemingly infinite energy as he held tightly to my hair. Finally satisfied that I had fed enough to heal completely, the master vampire had jerked me away from him and thrown me to the stone floor.

The blood drying on my naked skin tells me my wounds are no longer open. My body is hard at work repairing itself, bringing me inexorably to the end of my long life. I am trying not to weep, but failing. I had hoped I could face the end with some remnants of my dignity, but it seems that even that is to be denied me. I suppose I have only myself to blame; I struggled against them with all the strength I possesed, so when I was ultimately defeated, there was nothing left.

As I think about what has happened to me since I was taken from my mortal companion's side, I realize how mixed a blessing immortality can be. A mortal woman could not have survived a fraction of what was done to me, yet I suffered it all. I was unconscious for the trip here, but I know where I am: the dungeon beneath the ancient castle that is home to the vampire lord Dimitri Maximoff. I was jerked to wakefullness being held upright by Lilith, who held my wings behind me. My arms and legs were free, but I was unable to reach either my captor or the grinning vampire who stood before me. I didn't need to ask what was wanted of me, and I had to fight to avoid showing my fear.

Dimitri ordered me to remove what remained of my clothing, and I spat at him. I felt my wings breaking where they rooted into my back and my world exploded into an ocean of pain. I cried out, hating the plaintive quality to the sound torn from my throat. For several moments, I was simply paralyzed by agony. Dimitri could easily have torn my clothes from my body, but I understood even then what was happening. I would be compelled to do as I was told, the first surrender on the path to ultimate submission.

I'm not sure how long I defied my tormentors, hearing Lilith's squeals of delight each time she ground the bones of my broken body together. It seemed like a game to her to see how quickly she could make me scream after each expression of my refusal. At last, my body seemed to act of its own accord, my fingers clawing at the fabric of my blouse and slacks, mindless of the buttons which fastened them. In what seemed like an eternity but must, in reality have been mere moments, my defiance abandoned me, and when my naked form was finally dropped to the stone floor, I was babbling incoherently. Lilith was still giggling at me as she and the vampire left me alone. Once they were gone, the only sounds left were the pathetic-sounding sobs coming from my own lips and the faint tapping of my tears spattering on the pitiless floor beneath me.

By the time my captors returned, my wings had healed fully and I had already begun to try to find some means of escape. I had lashed out at the door, walls, ceiling, and even floor of my cell with every ounce of my not in-considerable might, only to find my prison virtually indestructable. Still, the effort, frustrating though it was, served to renew some of my vigor, and I determined that I would make my break for freedom when next the seemingly impregnable door was opened. I sat cross-legged in the middle of the stone floor and waited. My chance was not long enough in coming.

I heard the scrape of steel against stone and tensed. As the door was pulled ajar, I lunged at the figure framed in the light from beyond. In mid-leap, I felt the vampire's Fire Gift engulf me, and my nostrils filled with the smell of my burning hair. The force of the vampire's attack blew me nearly into the opposite wall as I tried uselessly to protect myself from the blistering heat with my wings. Every inch of my body was scortched. Determined not to be tamed so quickly, I scrambled to my feet, but Dimitri was already upon me, his hands beneath my arms, his thumbs ramming painfully up into my armpits and lifting me effortlessly off the floor. I struggled, my strength impotent against his, as he lifted me up, then I felt my skull crack as he smashed me into the stone ceiling and consciousness left me in a dull red bloom.

As awareness returned, I realized 2 sensations: my hands were pulled painfully back behind me and shackled so tightly that I felt the slightest strain against my bonds would breal my arms, and a faint tickling sensation like a tiny insect crawling across my naked breasts. I opened my eyes to find Lilith kneeling next to me, smiling innocently down, a straight pin pinched between her fingers as she caressed me. I gasped, the quick swell of my chest from the indrawn breath causing the pin to prick my tender flesh, making me flinch. I looked up and saw Dimitri gazing down at me, a contented smile on his face. Never had nudity accompanied such a feeling of acute vulnerability.

That was my last clear recollection. After that, images and sensations became fragmented, and the order of experiences was lost. I recall shrieking as Lilith pierced sensitive parts of my body with her pins, the pitch of my voice painful even to my own ears. Knives were used on me until my blood flowed freely, forming puddles and rivulets on the stone floor of my cell. Sometimes imaginative and excrutiating methods and utensils were used, other times I was simply beaten by one or both of my captors until blessed unconsciousness claimed me. Once, a metal rod was heated over glowing coals then shoved brutally inside me, but I fainted almost instantly and that was not repeated.

On and on it went, always with a reprieve between to allow my body to heal itself so that the torture could continue without destroying it. At one point, Dimitri came alone to tantalize me with the life-giving strength I was powerless to refuse, and I crawled to him on my knees, pleading with him to cast aside Lilith and her mad plan, promising him all I posessed if only he would make it all stop. As I fed from him, I showed him all that I could offer, revealing to him the delicious promise of my body. The back of his hand sent me into blackness.

So it was that I realized that after all these centuries, the vampire lord no longer cared for my surrender. Everything I offered him, he already posessed. It was Lilith to whom my submission had value. The last thing I had which eluded her, and she had all eternity to wait until I gave it up. The charm and strength that until now has been the exclusive province of the ancients, of whom I am one.

I lie here alone wondering if longevity makes a difference to one contemplating their end. It's felt to be a ghastly tragedy when a mortal dies in youth...a life lost untried...potential unrealized. But the longer one lives, perhaps the more one learns to cherish life. I know that after almost 3000 years, there is still so much to experience. The life force of mortals will still be tasted in the dark of night, and the warm sun will still be felt on the pale skin of those some mortals call demons or nightbreed...but no more by me.

The grey-haired man took a deep breath as he leaned back in his chair and pushed his eyeglasses up on his nose. He regarded the younger man carefully for some time before speaking. "You said there was something else," he said, tapping the stack of 8½"X11" photographs with one finger.

The man opposite him at the table in the corner of the cafe was visibly excited, making an obvious effort to keep his voice steady. "Yes sir," he told the professor. "The chemical analasys showed traces of an organic substance in the etchings. Although dna tests have been inconclusive so far, we believe that this message was scratched into the stone with a fingernail."

"If the creature which wrote this was what you believe, Charles, that's entirely possible," the older man replied. "When you said the etchings were recent, how recent did you mean?"

The young man named Charles took a deep breath. "The rock dust in the grooves indicates no exposure to the elements whatsoever," he answered. "The last rain in that area was 3 days ago, so the etchings were made since then. Realistically speaking, sir, it seems they were made around the time of the explosion which destroyed the castle."

The professor surveyed the photographs again for several minutes before looking up and meeting his young companion's eager gaze. "Well Charles," he said thoughtfully. "Isn't that just fascinating?"


End file.
